Commitment Phobics
by Teanni
Summary: Sometimes people suspect you of doing something you didn't do. If they keep suspecting will it become true eventually? sucky summary, I know, but the story's not as lame as it might suggest TABBY! And please, R&R!
1. Being friends is okay

Title: Commitment phobics  
Fandom: NCIS  
Characters: Tony DiNozzo/Abby Sciuto  
Summary: Sometimes people suspect you of doing something you didn't do. If they keep suspecting will it become true eventually?  
Rating: NC-17 (just to make sure)  
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Disclaimer: Written out of fan-appreciation I do neither own NCIS nor the characters I just borrowed them to play around with, so don't sue, please?  
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She walked over to the bar, her feet in stiletto boots that would have left a less practised women stumbling around like a drunken sailor on shore leave. She had just spent the last half hour dancing in said shoes and was now really thirsty. Behind her the stroboscope light was erratically illuminating the dance floor, freezing the dancers in mid motion each time it hit them. White powdered faces gleamed bluish in the light and red lips appeared almost purple.

The bass of the music vibrated through her body like a second heart beat. She was smiling, completely at ease, feeling content with the world, her life and this evening in particular.

Abby slightly leaned across the bar to place her order. Since she could imagine the bartender was sick of always being called 'hey' all night, she made a point out of reading his name from the little metallic tag that was pinned to his shirt, " Gordon," she smiled at him kindly. "do you have any green drinks?"

He looked at her strangely, trying to figure out whether he had misheard her thanks to the loud background noise of the club, "Sorry?" Gordon asked hesitantly.

The young woman's smile broadened. Her facial expression had a innocent, childlike quality to it, that compelled him to actually clarify the situation instead of just callously shrugging his shoulders and pointing at the mirror behind the bar on which tonight's special offer were scribbled as he usually did in case of doubt.

"You know…a green drink. I usually have a Zombie, 'cause that's my favourite. It's not just because of the name I actually love the taste, but tonight I saw this girl with this green cocktail in her hand and I thought, hey, that actually looks like something from a cartoon…like a potion. Really cool," she noticed his unblinking, slightly confused stare and concluded her ramble, "So do you have any?"

"Sure…you mean a Grasshopper?" he laughed softly and shook his head.

"Oh, yes…probably," at that he nodded with a lopsided grin and disappeared to mix the requested drink, which left Abby with some time to kill. She popped her head in time with the music, while her black pigtails swayed to the rhythm of the song. Her eyes were curiously roaming over the waiting partygoers that had formed a beeline around the bar. They briefly settled on a couple. He had his hand slung around her midriff as they waited together for their drinks to arrive. His chin was propped up on her shoulder and she smiled…cute…Then there was this guy, totally inconspicuous , who almost faded back in the crowd that was always overlooked by the girl who tended the bar besides Gordon. If he just acted with a little more determination…She was ripped out of her musing when her drink was placed in front of her.

"That the one?" Gordon asked with a smile.

"Yep, score!" she grinned at him and shoved a bill in his direction. Abby closed her dark red lips around the straw and took a sip of the neon green liquid that was swivelling in her glass as she made her way through the crowd, back to her friends.

Tonight was Saturday. The start of another well-deserved weekend and as much as she loved her job, she had spent all week looking forward to this night. It was "Try-something-new"-Saturday, which meant that they picked a club they had never been to and gave it a test run. If it turned out to alright, they would go there again if not they had at least broken out of their weekly routine. It usually was fun, but tonight was better than most.

She spotted Sasha's blue hair somewhere in the crowd. When they had gotten ready to go out tonight Abby had teased her, that she would never wear that whig in public. The other woman had just stuck out her chin in determination, murmured a semi-gruff 'watch me' and put it on. To their surprise it had actually looked good and so she had left it on in honour of tonight. After all this too was something new.

Sasha greeted Abby with a broad grin, as she watched her approach "Praise the lord! So you finally got your green drink. Is it any good?"

"Want some?" she recognized the curious look on her friend's face and held out her drink to her.

Sasha eagerly nodded her head and Abby had to smile. They had known each other ever since she moved to Washington…which had been about five years ago. One day she had gone shopping (she rarely did, because most of the time she ordered her clothing via internet) and both women had reached for the same t-shirt. They had fallen into conversation, the conversation had extended to drinking coffee together, the t-shirt was completely forgotten by then...Well, that's how she had met her best friend. She knew Sasha inside out, just like she knew all of Abby's little quirks.

She handed her back the glass, "Wow! Careful with that…that ain't no Caf-pow, sis. If you inhale this stuff like you usually do with your power drinks, then you gonna end up with one hell of a headache tomorrow," Sasha told her in a motherly tone, but then got distracted when she spotted her boyfriend Matt on the dance floor and gave him a wave, "Do you want to dance some more?" 

"Good idea! Since the music's so good it's kind of hard to stand still for too long," Abby answered, her voice was smokier than usually thanks to her eagerness to talk even over the loud background noise of the club.

They made their way through the crowd and halfway to the dance floor someone pumped into Abby. The drink fell from her hand, she stumbled and twisted her ankle in a funny way. The man that had collided with her had at least the sense of decency to apologize profusely and grab her ere she could hit the floor. She could hear Sasha providing the acoustic background to the scene screaming insults and accusing the man of running around like a headless chicken.

"Are you alright, honey?" she asked, when she was done verbally abusing the poor guy.

"I guess," she reached down to feel her ankle. It felt okay, minimal pain, but when she reached further down she noticed that her heel had broken off. "Aargh!" she let out a loud scream of frustration, "Aaaaah! That's so typically me. Do you know how many times this damned heel has broken off in the last few weeks?"

"Do you want me to pay for it?" the guy offered immediately, a young man in his mid twenties with shoulder long black hair that wore a black leather duster and a suitably preoccupied expression on his face.

"Uhm…no, thanks," Abby answered distractedly and clumsily fumbled around with the broken off heel only to finally stuff it in her purse shortly after, where it submerged in a strange array of bizarre objects "I guess you didn't do it on purpose."

"Let me at least buy you a new drink," he offered kindly.

"The least you could do," Sasha hissed at him.

"No, honestly I'm fine. Sasha, I think I'm gonna head home."

"Your leaving, just because of this jerk…"

"You know I'm standing right here. I can still hear you," the man protested.

Sasha dismissed his interjection with an irritated wave of her hand and the guy turned to leave shaking his head in annoyance. Her friend didn't even seem to notice, "Do you want me to come with you, Abs? You know you just have to say a word an Matt and I will get you home. Absolutely no problem."

"Oh!" Abby felt the sudden urge to hug her and gave into that impulse a second later, completely ignoring Sasha's expression of mock disgust. "That's so cute, but go and have some fun. You and Matt deserve it. I'll hobble home and grab a cup of coffee on the way."

"Are you sure," her friend asked with a preoccupied frown on her face.

"Positive," she mock saluted with her hand.

Minutes later Abby had thrown over her black cape and stepped out on the street. The bouncer held the door for her courteously. It was metallic and oddly reminded her of Ducky's lab. Outside a cool breeze swept over her and she shivered a little, since her body was still heated up from dancing and the couple drinks she had had.

Across the street she spotted an all night diner, which was very Edward Hopper. It looked clean, almost sterile from the outside, with lots of glass windows, but hey, that was only a plus. They couldn't spit in your coffee without you noticing.

When Abby stepped inside the diner the patrons – an old man and a bored looking middle aged couple – gave her a callous once-over. She self-consciously tugged at the hem of her cape. Her stocking glad legs were mostly uncovered thanks to the short pinstripe dress she wore underneath. She hoppled over to the counter like a wounded deer. The old man raised his eyebrows when he saw the spider web tattoo on her neck, but then he quickly averted his eyes. He was a regular and came here every night. Occasionally some strays from the club across the street ended up here.

The waitress behind the counter looked at her in a funny way. Maybe it was because she looked even paler in the fluorescent light. Spending the better part of the day cooped up in a lab tended to do that to you. Not that she actually minded. She preferred paleness to getting skin cancer. Some people foolishly spent all of their free time sizzling under the sun in order to get the perfect tan models in beauty magazines displayed without even thinking about the risks involved.

Abby plopped down on one of the stools that stood at the counter. "Could I get a coffee, please?" her voice had the tone of a petulant child that had just been told she was not allowed to get anything from the ice cream truck this time. It was hard to resist its lure and appear unfazed by it.

"Bad night?" the waitress, a stout woman in her forties asked as she poured Abby the coffee.

"You could say that. My favourite pair of boots got ruined and I've got some sticky drink all over my dress…well, not just some sticky drink as a matter of fact I know precisely what it was. After all I ordered it," she let out a huff and took a sip from her coffee. Ah, the good stuff! She reached for the sugar and was only content when she had emptied half of it into her cup.

The ringing of the bell above the door announced the arrival of another customer. They were really cueing in tonight. This time it was a young man – handsome, maybe early to mid-thirties, a boyish smile and the glint of mischief in his eyes. The waitress's reaction to him was not as hesitant as it had been when she interacted with the young woman that had just arrived. This guy qualified for the endearment 'honey' she reserved for regulars she liked or people she could potentially grow to like.

"What can I get you, honey?"

"A Coffee would be nice…," his eyes caught sight of the muffins that were artfully displayed behind glass. He pointed at one with sugar frosting on top, his mouth already watering, "and one of these, please."

Abby turned her had to look. She recognized this voice, it was hard not to after four years of working together almost everyday. "Tony!" she called out which made him look up and acknowledge her presence with an equally enthusiastic "Abby!" They were happy to see each other, as happy as two people could be about seeing a friendly face at the end of a relatively bad night.

He got up, walked over to her. As he made his way across the diner she couldn't help but notice the fine suit he wore and his polished leather shoes that were letting out obnoxious screeches as he walked over the linoleum floor. He let himself slump casually on the stool next to her.

"Not so hot date?" she looked at him with a mocking smile on her face.

"More like the psycho date from hell," a shudder went through his body at the mere thought of it, partially for the sake of putting on a show and also because a surge of honest horror overcame him at the mere recollection of the past few hours.

"Okay, okay! Let me guess," Abby held her hand to her forehead like a fortune-teller gazing into a crystal ball, "Are we talking Kathleen Turner in 'War of the Roses' or was she more like Glenn Close in 'Fatal Attraction'?" she bounced excitedly in her seat.

"Neither…," Tony grinded his teeth in frustration, "Actually more like 'How to lose a guy in ten days'. That movie still makes me shiver. Every time I see Kate Hudson I keep thinking 'Run, Tony! Run! She's the devil'…" he inserted a meaningful pause, "Well, she actually asked what I thought about long term commitment, marriage and kids….I mean…can you believe that? I know I'm hot, but jeez! That was just our second date. I hate such high hopes for us...for tonight."

She mostly ignored his chauvinistic comment and settled on just giving him a patented eye-roll. "I'm guessing you went to that place across the street," he nodded his consent and Abby continued, "So you decided to drown your sorrows in coffee?" the mug with the steaming hot beverage was just placed in front of him, when she made her remark.

"That was the plan," he nodded and took a greedy bite from his muffin that had arrived along with it. "You?" he asked while chewing on one side of his mouth.

"I went clubbing with friends, had to call it an early night, because I broke of my heel," he looked at her shoes almost involuntarily.

"Wow! Those are freaking hot!" he acknowledged appreciatively.

"You think?" she asked with a grin, pleased of having received a compliment for her favourite pair of shoes.

"Yeah, plus one heel of course," he gave her an impish grin, which faded right after she smacked him on the back of his head as a punishment for his teasing comment, "Ouch!" Tony rubbed the spot were she had hit him overdramatically, "now that was just plain cruel. It's the weekend I have to regenerate the sore spot on the back of my head for Monday."

"It's called operant conditioning."

"Huh?" he took the sip of his coffee and stuffed the remains of the muffin in his mouth

"Operant conditioning," she said the term like it should mean anything to him, "Didn't you have a pet when you were a kid?"

"I always wanted a dog. Of course, my mother didn't allow me to get one. She said it would ruin the carpets and chew up her shoes," he shrugged his shoulder, while the hint of a pout delineated on his face and made his nonchalance act less credible.

"Poor baby!" she gave him a sympathetic pet on the shoulder, "Well, my mum loved cats. We had two, but they were too stubborn for being trained. Kind of like you actually," he shot her a dirty look, but she continued totally unfazed, "They always yawned and fell asleep when I tried it on them…Anyways it works like that: the subject, that would be you, Tony, exhibits some behaviour you would like to have occur less frequently, so you punish the subject. Wag!" her voice was getting louder out of enthusiasm and her exclamation at the end had the middle age couple that was sitting a few meters away from them jump in their seats. Tony smiled. "After that the occurrence of the undesired behaviour should gradually diminish. Of course, there is also positive reinforcement, which would mean Gibbs would have to order you a pizza every time you come up with a good idea…"

"So you're saying Gibbs is basically trying to train me like a pet?" Tony looked at her indignantly.

"Unsuccessfully though!" she tried to back-paddle, thinking she had made a mistake by telling him.

A wink and a smile relieved her of that worry, "Well, I have no intention of being a good boy anytime soon. Keeps the Bossman on his toes, plus I love the way Ziva gets flustered when she's angry."

Outside a sudden downpour started raining down on the street and made the pavement shimmer. The steady beat of the raindrops drummed incessantly against the tin roof of the diner. The waitress went to turn up the radio to drown out the noise.

By now they had both emptied their cups and since leaving was temporarily out of question, they decided to order another round. Tony waved his arms and pointed at their empty cups when he had caught the waitress's attention.

"Do you want to get married?" Abby had just taken a small sip of her by now refilled cup of coffee. She coughed a little when her mind wrapped around the words that had just left Tony's mouth without him thinking about it.

"What?!" she looked at him with wide-eyed as if he had just sprouted a horn on his forehead.

"That girl…Susan, you know, my date tonight….she kept going on about how she wanted to get married someday, have the mandatory 2.5 kids," he shook himself like a wet dog, "It's just a scary thought that this is what all women want."

His was practically begging her with his eyes to say 'no', "Well, I suppose not all women do," she commenced carefully, since she could tell it was a sensitive subject, "Especially the getting married part…Of course, when you really think about it it's a very brave thing to do, because you're promising to be with that one person for the rest of your life. Naturally marriage was never supposed to last this long. Now with a higher life expectancy you have to 'put up' with your significant other for at least five decades," he smiled at her choice of words. "Back in the day people just had the decency of dying earlier so that as long as you both shall life was not that long actually…"

"Interesting piece of information, but that doesn't answer my question, Miss Sciuto," he leaned on the counter looking at her with a mock serious glance.

"Okay, okay," she sighed, "I think to get married you have to meet the right kind of guy first - Mr. Super-Fantastic, but I guess Mr. Super-Fantastic is just some kind of myth like the Tooth Fairy or Santa Clause. Plus, I'm doing pretty well on my own. I don't need Mr. Super-Fantastic in my life to make me happy, I have my friends, work… Life is pretty good basically."

"Uh-hum," Tony nodded slowly. "So what about the 2.5 kids?"

"I like kids, don't get me wrong. I even caught myself cooing over my cousin's baby like a girly girl. She has such cute little chubby cheeks and those tiny fingers. I could eat her all up… "

"Literally or figuratively speaking?" he interjected with a mischievous grin on his face. The remark earned him a swat on the arm.

"Still…I wouldn't want to have kids. I'm just not ready for changing diapers, for waking up to a crying toddler and for the load of responsibility that suddenly gets dumped on your shoulders. I'm still young and I like to be a little irresponsible now and then," she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, "Plus, I've still got plenty of time to make up my mind about the whole thing. It's not like the clock's ticking, you know," she shrugged her shoulders casually.

"See, that's what I'm talking about! Tell that to Scary Susan! She already had me thinking all women were loons," he nodded vigorously in affirmation of her statement and emptied his second cup of coffee, feeling slightly chipper thanks to the caffeine buzz.

The sudden arrival of the waitress ripped them out of conversation, "I'm sorry, kids," she addressed them with a professional, but fake bitter sweet smile, "but it's almost midnight and we're closing in five minutes…"

"Alright," Tony said and reached for his wallet, "what do we owe you?" he asked and paid for their order without leaving Abby anytime to protest.

"Thanks," she said somewhat begrudgingly. It felt uncomfortable having someone else buy her coffee.

"No problem," he answered casually.

They stepped outside, but staid on the doorstep so that the roof of the diner was protecting them from the pouring rain. It didn't look like it would stop anytime soon. They stood there for a while indecisively.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Tony asked suddenly. His question came out somewhat blunt thanks to the minutes of silence that had passed between filled only by the sound of the falling rain.

"You would do that? I could call a taxi…"

He gave her the look, "I basically got raised by my parent's housemaid, but I still got some manners. I'm going to take you home, period."

"Okay," she said with a shy lop-sided grin", if you're being so adamant about it."

"You can bet cha," he gave her broken boots a suspicious glance, "But you're not going to get very far in those."

She nodded. He stepped in front of her and gave her a wave with his head, "Okay, this completely undermines my coolness, but I'm sure no one will see, so jump on."

"Really?" she asked with a glint of childlike delight in her eyes.

"Really," he answered and gave her a boyish smile.

The waitress inside the diner was just cleaning the tables when she saw the strange couple from before running down the street. The man was carrying the woman pickaback and from what she could make out through the window panes, which were blurry thanks to the water that ran down on the outside of them, the woman was having a happy smile plastered on her face. People these days! She shook her head and continued cleaning.

Tony reached his car slightly out of breath. "We're there," he announced panting. Abby took his comment as the signal to get off his back which allowed him to rummage for his car keys inside his jacket pockets. He produced them with a triumphant laugh only moments later and they quickly got inside the car. It was a nice car, from what she could tell a BMW convertible (its roof was closed, of course) looking suspiciously it had been taken straight out of a James Bond movie. Tony had bought it a week ago. She could pinpoint the date so precisely, because he had been going on and on about it at work. Personally, she thought, that he was trying to console himself over the loss of his beloved Corvette. The fact that he been constantly raving about his beautiful new car, caused her to skip over complimenting him on it. (It was really nice though)

"That was fun," she told him with a grin. Her wet hair was sticking to her face and she successfully resisted the urge to wrench out her pigtails. She supposed that he wouldn't appreciate it, especially with the leather seats and all.

"Yeah," he smiled back at her, "suddenly I can imagine what Kevin Costner must have felt like when he did Waterworld," Tony added on an afterthought. He twisted the keys in the ignition and the engine sprang to life as did the radio. The velvety voice of Dean Martin and soft tunes of jazzy music filled the car.

Their drive through nightly Washington was accompanied by this soundtrack. Conversation had come to a standstill, but neither of them was bothered by it. The silence was comfortable and only interrupted when Tony hummed along to 'That's amore'. Abby smiled to herself and looked out of the window. Her reflection looked back at her contently from the window pane.

They pulled up to her condo and Tony turned of the engine. That was the part were one of them was supposed to say something, she remembered. She was always good with filling the silence - an ability she had acquired during her early childhood and had brought to perfection in the course of passing years.

"So," she stretched out the vowel of this small word exaggeratedly, "I don't know about you, but I'm still on a caffeine rush. I've already had two Caf-pows today, you do the maths. If you want you could come up, dry of and we could watch a movie or something. Sounds good?"

"Yep," he nodded in agreement. They got out of the car and ran over to the entrance of the condo. It was a rather futile attempt of evading the rain, since they were already drenched. Tony tried not to think about the implication their long ride through Washington would have for the leather seats inside his car.

tbc


	2. Being comfortable is okay

From the outside the condo looked pretty run of the mill. Tony had been there a couple of times to pick her up or to drop her of after work, but he never had actually been inside her flat. He couldn't help but feel a little curious. It had an air of mysterious to it, since McGee as well as Gibbs had occasionally commented on Abby's peculiar decorative taste. When Abby unlocked the door to her apartment and he stepped inside after her, he could see they had not been exaggerating.

The walls were painted in a dramatic dark red and the furniture was mostly made of dark wood. The coffin in the middle of her living room, in which she claimed to occasionally sleep, was like a grim exclamation mark in the midst of cute stuffed animals and a collection of bizarre figurines, wooden masks and technical equipment. Amazingly this strange array of object managed to make you feel at home and creep you out at the same time, but judging from what he knew about her, this was precisely the desired effect.

Abby noticed him stopping behind her. He was observing his surroundings from his position at the doorstep. His face held the excited expression of little Charlie inside the Chocolate Factory. She liked the way people reacted differently towards her apartment. Gibbs had just frowned briefly and quickly gone back to normal, whereas McGee had just gaped shamelessly and then started gushing over her computer. Tony's reaction was completely unprecedented though.

"To come in you actually would have to step across the sill. I'd leave the door open all night, I'm afraid to catch a draft," she said teasingly.

"Sorry," he said somewhat distractedly, his eyes focusing on a new detail every other moment. "I was just…."

"Staring?"

"More like marveling at the beauty that is your apartment…Wow, is that a Boris Karloff collectible?!" he walked passed her, suddenly not so shy anymore and picked up Frankenstein's monster that sat there on the sideboard among a vast collection of other figurines. He waggled it around playfully accompanied by the almost mandatory words; "It's alive, alive!" spoken in the bad imitation of a German accent.

"I was going to say make yourself at home, but I think you've already got this part covered," she chuckled softly, "I'm going to get you a towel, before you get poor Boris here all soggy," Abby admonished good-humouredly.

Her announcement was only acknowledged with a small nod, since he was still engrossed in playing with the doll. She had Godzilla, too. A face-off between Frankenstein's monster and the big lizard, now that would be fun! When she was gone, he picked up Godzilla as well. Tony tried to adjust Boris's arms, so that they were stretched out before his body (the typical Frankenstein's monster pose), but unfortunately the left arm broke of. Tony cringed and cursed silently under his breath, desperately trying to repair the damage done to the figurine, but to no avail. He placed it back on the sideboard cursing some more and whipped around abruptly when Abby came back with a black towel in her hands.

"DiNozzo, what have you been doing?" she narrowed her eyes and looked at him disapprovingly when she noticed his suspicious behaviour.

"Nothing?" he asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Doesn't look like it," she threw the towel at him with a little bit of extra gusto. Still he neatly caught it in midair which added to her irritation.

She tried to look around him, but he shifted and successfully managed to block her view at the sideboard. "Okay, I did do something, but I'm going to take care of it. I promise," he looked at her pleadingly.

"I don't know. Depends on what you did," she already had a slight suspicion what it could have been he had done. McGee had broken off the arms of the Frankenstein monster on his first night over. Since that incident they came of prettily easily. 

"It's nothing too bad. I'm going to get it fixed just leave me a day or two," the choice of his words verified her suspicion. It was probably a bad thing to do, but for now she decided to forgo telling him that it wasn't his fault the arms of the doll had come off.

"Alright, I'll have mercy on you just this once….just. this. once," she said before she turned to go again.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to slip into something more comfortable," she told him in a sultry voice.

He looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights and gulped heavily. Apparently the patented Dinozzo wit was on vacation or else he would have come up with an equally suggestive comeback. She decided to clarify the situation, "Relax, I had nothing kinky in mind. I was just going to put on my pjs."

True to her word she returned seconds later clad in black pajamas. He narrowed his eyes to make out the print on it. Aha! The tiny counterfeits of at least a hundred Jack Pumpkin Heads grinned at him. 

"Cute, but you'd have to take this off if you want to turn me on," his wit was back; apparently he had recovered from the little dismemberment incident.

She gave him a dirty smile and patted her eyes, "Why Tony if I wanted to turn you on I wouldn't even have to take my clothes off."

"Promises, promises," he sat down on the chair in front Abby's computer and amused himself by spinning around in it. Out of his peripheral vision he saw her shaking her head amusedly, and then she was gone. There was the black leather sofa next to the desk. The opposite wall, then there she was again – only this time much closer. She reached out, placing her hands on his shoulders thereby effectively stopping him from spinning. Her face was now on level with his. It was hard to focus on it, since he felt slightly dizzy from spinning around. He noticed the lack of make-up though. Any other woman would probably have felt naked without it or would have self-consciously worried that she was sharing something entirely too private. Abby didn't seem to care and he had to admit to himself that he really liked it, which wasn't such a big surprise (Beautiful, self-confident women were his thing)

"What…do you want?" Abby asked him in a low voice. She leaned closer and he could see a shimmer of white skin peak out underneath the collar of her pajamas. His eyes focused on her pink lips whose corners were slightly quirked up in a little smile. He gulped heavily.

"To drink," Abby clarified, now smirking impishly. She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest looking at him with a triumphant gaze that screamed 'I told you'.

It took him a moment to recover, "Nothing with caffeine," his voice sounded slightly grumpy. "I still have my hopes up for a little nap before Monday."

She nodded her consent and disappeared inside the kitchen. He could hear her rummaging inside the freezer, while she called out the inventory to him, "Beer? Water? Orange-juice? Milk…," he heard a sound of disgust, "Forget about the milk…Hey! There's some left-over pizza...interested?"

"Hmmm left-over pizza's my favourite," Tony smirked to himself and rubbed his hand together in anticipation. "I'll think I'll have a beer with it," he added on an afterthought.

"Good choice," the clanging of bottles and the sound of two taps being removed followed her answer shortly after.

Abby returned and without even thinking about asking his permission she sat down on his lap, deposited the pizza box on the desk in front of them and passed him his bottle of beer. They clanged the bottles together before they drank and he could see her smiling a little before she turned around to switch on the computer.

"What are you up to?" he asked after his second swing from the bottle.

"I've got something you're going to like…definitely," she told him enthusiastically.

"Oh, goody! Internet porn!" Tony exclaimed in a mock cheerful voice.

Abby laughed a little, "Nope, something much better." She clicked with her mouse on an icon on the desktop and a program started. Tony's interest was immediately captured when he heard the theme of the 'Godfather' coming out of the speakers.

"There's a game based on the 'Godfather'?! Why didn't anyone tell me?" he asked automatically leaning closer to the monitor and thereby into Abby's back. She could feel his body warm radiating through her thin cotton pajamas. It felt nice. Physical proximity didn't scare her like it did most people. She was an emotional person and liked to hug her friends whenever she felt like it. Therefore the fact that Tony invaded her personal bubble didn't bother her at all. It was something they both were quite comfortable with. They knew it meant nothing. There was no subtext implied.

"Why didn't anyone tell you, Tony?" she echoed his words, "For starters, because you said Timmy and I were geeks because we like to play Halo…"

"But this is something completely different. This is 'the Godfather'….the Godfather," he gesticulated with his arms exasperatedly, "the treasure trove of wisdom! The epitome of cool! I'm Italian for crying out loud…do you honestly want to deprive me of my cultural heritage?"

"Of course not! I would never be that cruel. That's why I'm showing it to you now," the cool light of monitor illuminated the amused expression on her face. "So I'm guessing you want to play?"

"Do I want to play?! What kind of question is that? Of course I want to play."

"Okay, okay, steady, my little Italian stallion!" she raised her hands in the air, wiggled her fingers and made a point out of pulling back her sleeves, "First we'll have to create a new character," Abby explained, all business by now.

They spend the next half an hour with creating a character. After they had amused themselves by messing around with his physical attributes for a while (they let him inflate and deflate, changed his hair colour to green and then let him loose his hair all together etc.), they were finally ready to start playing. Tony and Abby took their turns at the keyboard. The vote who was going to control the character at which point of the game, was not entirely democratic. It was decided by means of dirty tricks, basically tickling, theft of food, distraction tactics, but somehow they managed to both enjoyed themselves immensely in the process.

It turned out that Abby was almaringly good at the sneaking around part and the stealth kills. He watched her admiringly and noticed the exited glint in her eye and the way she chewed her bottom lip in concentration, while she played. It was kind of cute. She raised her arms in triumph when she completed the mission successfully and he found himself cheering with her.

At some point Abby declared she was too tired to keep playing, so she crawled over on the couch and watched him. In the course of time she was having more and more trouble concentrating. Tony's eyes were also getting heavier by the minute. He stiffled a yawn, as he felt the numbing feeling of sleepiness spreading in his body. Tony managed to drag himself over to the couch and as soon as he stretched out next to her they both fell asleep.

Ah, so comfortable and warm…he nuzzled closer to the source of the warmth that was wrapped around him like a blanket and buried his face in its soft hair. The smell was so nice each time he inhaled it, it made his stomach tingle happily.

Reality was insistently calling him back out of his sleepy daze via a shrill chirping noise. He inwardly protested, trying to fall asleep again or at least to maintain this pleasant state of semi-consciousness, but unfortunately the persistent ringing drew him further and further towards the state of being awake. He blindly reached out his hand and felt around for his jacket he knew had to be lying on the floor next to the couch. His fingers connected with its leather material, he reached inside and circumstantially produced the cell phone. Its chirping had gotten louder now and sounded almost accusatory. Abby shifted in her sleep.

For the first time today he slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness of the sun that shone in through the window. He could vaguely make out the number on the display and read the name above it…McGee. What could McGee possibly…Work! He opened the phone and drowsily mumbled, "DiNozzo," into the earpiece.

"Tony, we've got ourselves a new case. Gibbs said to call you…," he heard McGee sigh over the line, "I've tried to reach Abby, but she won't answer. Could you try…"

"It's alright, she's here with me," Tony rubbed his face sleepily.

"She's here with you?!" he could practically see McGee's astonished and outraged face. He was probably already starting to get those tiny red dots all over his face, that always seemed to appear when he got embarrassed or fluster or angry... which happened a lot, since Tony made a point of giving him a hard time at work. It was just too much fun. This time he could not amuse himself with the mental image. It caused him to be suddenly fully awake and alert instead.

"Umm…look McGee," Tony cringed inwardly, struggling to find an explanation that would not compromise him any further, but the younger man interrupted him before he could concoct a decent excuse.

"Just spare me the sordid details this time, okay?" McGee sounded pissed. It was clearly evident from his tone of voice that was a mixture of professionalism and suppressed anger, "Try to be quick and bring Abby with you."

"It's not like you…," 'think' he wanted to say – the famous last words. He did not get to complete his sentence, because the line went dead before he could. He made a face and threw his phone on his jacket disdainfully.

tbc


	3. Gotta think twice

Abby was still in deep slumber. Neither the ringing cell phone nor his conversation with McGee had managed to wake her up. Her arms were wrapped around him possessively and her face rested against his chest. A pose which oddly reminded him of her holding her stuffed hippo Bert. The expression on her face was utterly content and relaxed and made him feel almost sorry having to wake her up.

Tony nudged her shoulder experimentally, but she only stirred a little, huffed and then went back to sleep. He tried again, this time more insistently, "Abs? Come on, wake up! We've won the big prize, work on a Sunday morning," he took a look at his watch and groaned, "at seven"

At that she opened her eyes and looked at him blinkingly, "Tony?" it was a mixture of a question and a statement, "Your hair looks…," His hair was tousled from sleeping on the couch and sticking up in all directions. In her semi-awake state she was searching for the befitting adjective to describe it and grinned lazily when she found it, "cute."

Tony smiled awkwardly, "Thanks…I think," he carefully tried to manoeuvre her into an upright position to be able to stand up and stretch his legs. She was still very impassive and more asleep then awake, "Abs, McGee just called. We've got a new case," he told her again, talking very slowly and articulately to make sure every word reached her through her sleep induced daze.

Abby mumbled something unintelligible and then slowly got up - very much to his surprise. There was something deeply unenthusiatic about way she walked, or much rather slouched, into the next room. She remerged shortly after, clad in faded jeans and a black t-shirt with pink polka dots on it. Something was missing though. The mandatory pigtails she wore everyday had been replaced by a loose bun. If that wasn't a big enough clue that something was amiss, then the disgruntled expression on her face was a dead-on.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned that maybe the fact that he had spent the night had managed to bring about her bad mood.

"No," she said grumpily, "too early. Lack of caffeine," Abby informed him in clipped sentences and grabbed a pair of large sunglasses and her keys that rested on the small table next to the door. "Let's just go, okay?"

"Okay," Tony stretched out the vowels of the word exaggeratedly, "Looks like I'm driving."

She just shrugged in response and trudged out of the flat. Apparently she was not a morning person. It was hard to imagine since she always appeared to be so cheerful and talkative at work, but that was probably always after the right dosage of caffeine and an adequate amount of sleep.

The car ride was rather uneventful. Abby sat there with her sunglasses on, starring silently out of the window. Her behaviour creeped him out a little and made him unsure what to say. It happened more than a few times that he caught himself stealing glances in her direction when they stopped at a traffic light. Tony decided that procuring some Caf-Pow was the right thing to do; after all it usually improved her mood.

When Abby held the ice-cold beverage in her hands moments later and was taking greedy sips from it through a red straw, she actually looked a little happier. Her glasses hindered him, of course, from seeing her eyes, but her pleased smile was telltale. They were just pulling into the garage of the NCIS, when he decided that now was probably the right time to tell her about his little no-no with McGee, before she found out herself.

"Um, Abs," Tony started hesitantly, "Listen, this morning McGee called…."

"Umumh," she was practically inhaling the caffeinated beverage now.

"Well, I was kind of sleepy and told him that I was with you."

"So?"

"He might have gotten the wrong impression about the situation," he told her somewhat sheepishly.

She let out a huff, "Oh, Tony, you didn't correct his mistake, did you?"

"I was trying to, but he hung up on me before I could explain."

"Sounds like McGee," Abby said after a moment of contemplation, "Well, try again. If he doesn't listen and starts acting like a jealous jerk send him down to the lab and I'll kick his ass for you," problem solved. She gave him a grin, the first of the day. Somehow he couldn't help but feel honoured.

He turned of the engine and they got out of the car. The garage was empty except for Gibbs's and McGee's respective cars that were already parked there. Once inside the elevator that would bring them up to the office, Tony stretched out his arms and yawned over-dramatically. "Ah, working on a Sunday morning! Doesn't it make you feel all special and wanted, Abs?"

"No, hugs and little presents usually do the trick for me," she said with a sly smile and pressed the button for her floor.

"I'll keep that in mind," he grinned at her. The doors of the elevator shut with a silent buzz.

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Tony took another photo of the crime scene while McGee busied himself searching the area for evidence. They hadn't spoken since their rather curt greeting at the beginning of the shift (a head nod) and their interaction was limited to dark and meaningful glances of which Tony was on the receiving end.

The victim was a woman in her mid-forties. She lay there quite peacefully, stretched out on the grass. No signs of bruising and no other indication of violence. What was odd though was that she had been found out here in no-man's-land, next to a field, clothed in a red petticoat and a yellow cardigan, in general looking suspiciously like she had come straight out of an episode of Happy Days.

He tilted his head a little to the left to throw a brief look on her face. Her glassy eyes started out into nothingness. They had already started to cloud. What was rather grotesque about the whole picture was that her make-up was still perfectly in place. Her bright pink lipstick that set off drastically against her unnaturally pail skin appeared almost to be fluorescent. He took another picture.

"Guess it's no more rock around the clock for her," Tony tried to lighten the mood with a joke. As expected no reaction from McGee, but he could hear Ziva snort behind him. Gibbs was a little further done the country road searching for tire marks and therefore out of hearing range. The only response he would have gotten out of him would have been a smack on the back of his head anyways.

He took another shot of the victim as Ziva stepped next to him. "So how did you sleep last night, Tony?" she looked at him coyly from underneath the rim of her NCIS-cap. From experience he knew that that look usually meant trouble. It was supposed to make him feel safe and coax him into telling her everything. He wouldn't fall for it this time.

"Pretty well, thanks. You?"

"It was a rather short night, wasn't it?" Ziva looked at him pointedly. If she started nudging him in the side now and winking at him, it would be feel like college all over again.

"You could say that. It was seven, when McGee called me," he answered shortly. Obviously Ziva already knew something and was trying to carefully prod the information out of him. She had already been in, when he arrived and probably even witnessed McGee's phone call.

When Tony refused to give away any information at all as to what had happened last night with Abby, Ziva was a little disappointed. Disappointed and surprised. It was rather out of character for him to be so hesitant about providing his co-workers with details about his nightly activities. Usually he was gushing endlessly about his conquests, so that in a matter of minutes they knew everything about the poor girl starting with her hair-colour, hobbies down to her bra-size. Tony had largely contributed to her knowing a vast number of synonyms for the word breast in English, for which she was not particularly thankful.

Mercifully Tony was saved from another attempt of her questioning him. Behind them another truck pulled up the farm track. The gravel crunched under the wheels of the vehicle as it slowed down. When he turned around Ducky and Palmer were already unloading their equipment.

The sight of the approaching vehicle was signal for Gibbs to return. "Are you done, McGee?" he asked gruffly as he passed him.

"Almost there, boss."

"Ducky," Gibbs greeted the older man monosyllabically. He wasn't in a particularly good mood today. Something had been bugging him all day long and it wasn't case related.

"Gibbs," the doctor returned the greeting "Isn't it nice out here? Everywhere you look fields of green, reminds me of home. I was just telling Mr. Palmer…"

"I doubt she had any time to admire the great outdoors, Ducky," he stepped aside allow to take a glance at the victim.

Ducky walked around him, the beginning of their conversation suddenly forgotten, when he saw the corpse lying there. He kneeled down beside the dead body. His schooled eyes were immediately taking in every detail. "Poor thing," Ducky muttered to himself, "All dressed up, but now no one's going to take you to the dance anymore."

"What can you tell me Ducky?"

"Well, no outward signs of violence," he inspected her limps carefully, "but you already knew that, didn't you? To determine the cause of death we will have to wait the autopsy, unfortunately. The time of death…well that's a different story. While the circumstances that let to her demise remain a mystery, it's save to say that her death occurred quite recently. Judging from the rigor mortis she must have died yesterday. She couldn't have been lying here long or the beasts would have already feasted on her."

Gibbs nodded at him, for now satisfied with the answers he had gotten. "We'll leave you to it then, Ducky."

He turned around, addressing the rest of his team, "Okay, let's pack up. And, Ziva, this time I'm driving," she produced the keys and threw them over to him somewhat reluctantly. She knew better than to protest.

"Did you manage to find any tier marks, boss?" Tony asked as they walked towards the truck which had been parked at the edge of the asphalted road a little bit away from the crime scene.

"What do you think, Dinozzo? That the perp had superpowers? He simply flew by and dumped the body?" Gibbs was walking a little bit ahead. The two other agents had trouble keeping up with him, since they were pretty packed, having to carry the boxes containing the evidence as well as their equipment.

"Of course, not boss, but he went through a lot of trouble to blur his tracks. No footprints at the scene…"

"Attaboy," Gibbs opened the back of the truck for them and they carefully stored everything inside. By then McGee was done, too and already jogging down the farm track towards them. He knew that if he didn't hurry there was the chance Gibbs would leave him behind and he would have to ride back with Ducky and Palmer, which would not be his preferred choice, even though Gibb's driving skills were somewhat hazardous. Once Ducky had found someone to listen to his stories who wasn't able to escape nor had the authority to make him shut up, he kept going and going like there was no tomorrow. Luckily he reached the truck in time. Ziva and Tony were already seated on the frontbench next to Gibbs, so he had to squeeze in the back.

As Gibbs started the engine, very much like a race car driver, Dinozzo reached out to turn on the radio. He skipped over several different stations. Shreds of music filled the car until Gibbs had enough and hit the off button, throwing Tony a reproachful look. After that the car fell silent for a while. McGee didn't feel like talking and if he did say anything it would probably be a snide remark which would be inappropriate given the circumstances, so he bit his tongue. Tony was lost in thoughts, which did not happen a lot and was a little disconcerting for his co-workers. It made Ziva self-conscious and Gibbs speed.

_I gotta think twice, before I give my heart away. 'Cause I know all the games you play, because I play them too._ It was strange that he should have a brooding fit over the lyrics of some stupid song he just heard on the radio. Clearly Ziva was to blame for it with all her prying little questions and her barely concealed curiosity. Tony threw her a dark sideways glance. He also had one in store for McGee, because he had managed to turn something perfectly innocent into something treacherously ambiguous by his groundless accusations, but he was too lazy to turn all the way around. Great, now he was stuck with thinking about the last night constantly. Had it been more than just a casual meeting of two friends? Did McGee truly have any reason to be jealous?

Abby was very attractive. A picture of her in one of her little skirts suddenly flashed before his inner eye. (The man who didn't like short skirts had still to be found. He probably didn't exist) Definitely very attractive. And she was fun to be around. They could easily goof around without him feeling self-conscious. She never rolled her eyes at him and told him he was childish.

Normally only one of those two qualities (it was troubling him a little that he could almost instantly name a lot more than two things about her he found attractive) would have sufficed for him to consider making an advance. So why hadn't he ever moved it any further than just harmless flirtation? Why indeed?

The question was suddenly there and he knew he could not un-think it now or push it back into his subconscious. In asking it he had to acknowledge that he already knew the answer. It had been there all along, but without being conjured it was just a thought that only appeared to quickly disappear again. He had not asked her out, because he was afraid.

tbc


	4. And from there things got messy

**Author's note: **Well, hello:) Thanks for the lovely reviews...I'm extremely happy you guys enjoy this! I already finished the story so regular up-dates ahoy!

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Normally he would have avoided going down there all day, but Gibbs didn't leave him any choice, so McGee had trotted off to bring the evidence they had collected on the crime scene to Abby. The fact that he had to pass by the morgue in order to collect the victim's clothing from Ducky so they could be processed, blissfully delayed his arrival, but now he was surrounded once again by the familiar sound of booming beats. Now was too soon for his taste.

He let out a sigh and announced his presence, "Abby?" he called out into the room questioningly. Even the clipped way he pronounced her name indicated his level of annoyance and displeasure.

She emerged shortly after from the small adjoining room, that was her office. The sliding door made a whooshing sound and Abby appeared. She was clothed very casual, probably because she'd had to leave her flat in a hurry this morning. This line of thought was potentially dangerous, because it let him to envision her sleepy and half-naked in bed with Tony, which involuntarily caused him to feel a sudden surge of jealousy. He pushed the thought back into his subconscious and tried to act normal.

"That's what we collected on the scene," he handed her several sealed evidence bags, "And these," he pointedly put down another plastic box on the table, "are the vic's clothes. Petty Officer Florence McTroi, age 43."

Abby nodded and put on her latex cloves with the swift motion of someone who had done so a gazillion times. She leaned curiously over the box to peak inside, "Wow," her mouth briefly twitched into a lopsided grin. "She's been wearing that? The whole outfit's ever so slightly Peggy Sueish, if you ask me. And she was found where?"

"Next to a field."

"Very surreal..."

"Yeah, well if you don't mind I'd like to get back to work," Mc Gee said uncharacteristically brusque. He turned abruptly, unwilling to extend their conversation beyond the necessary.

"What's up, Timmy?" she asked before he could quickly disappear through the door. Damn her!

"Nothing," McGee answered in an annoyed tone of voice. The fact that he had frozen on track right in the middle of his way towards the door provided her with the opportunity to call him on his strange behaviour. He should have just kept walking.

"Timothy McGee, stop bullshitting me! I knew there was something wrong the minute you set foot inside the lab. So you better cut the crap and tell me what it is….," Abby admonished him in a business like tone.

He turned around and threw her an accusatory look, "If you have to know. It's you and Tony."

"Me and Tony? There no me and Tony. Well, technically there is me…and Tony as individual beings, but no me and Tony as in a couple…not that it was any of your concern, since you started dating that brown haired MIT girl the other month," she had started taking the clothes out of the box and was laying them out one by one on the examination table with meticulous care.

"Right, so you were just sleeping together?" his voice quivered with barely suppressed anger.

"McGee!" she whipped around to fix him with a stern look. Her freshly made pigtails were swaying angrily when she energetically turned her head. "Again, I'm telling you that's none of your business. Stop behaving like a jealous idiot! I'm not your property! We broke up over a month ago…"

"No, need to remind me. It's kind of hard to forget," he said bitterly. "It just really hurt to find out this way."

"Stop with the assumptions already! There is nothing for you to find out. Yes, we slept together in the most literal sense of the world. It involved being fully clothed and sleep of the snory, drooly variety, okay? So big whoop! If there was something I had to tell you, I'd tell you, okay?"

"Okay," he said slowly. Deep down he knew she was right. He had no right to be jealous anymore. He had ceased being her boyfriend about a month ago. Still it was hard imagining her with somebody else. "If there was actually something going on, I'd like to be the first to know. It would only be fair and leave me with some time to prepare…"

"Prepare for what? Throwing another fit?"

"No, acting like an adult."

"Okay, I promise, I'd let you know **IF** something was going on, Timmy."

"Okay," he let out a relieved sigh and gave her a reconciliatory half-smile before he left.

She watched him go and even after the door had slid shut behind him she did not avert her eyes immediately. Abby let out a relieved sigh she did not knew she was holding, then returned to processing the clothes that were lying on the table in front of her. She dimmed the light and slowly traced the black light over the fabric to see if anything had been spilled on it. It wasn't a task that particularly challenged her mental capacities, so she allowed her thoughts to roam freely. Suddenly her hand that slowly but steadily moved the light over the clothing came to a halt, not because she found something, but because her mind suddenly insisted dwelling on a particular thought like a broken record.

_Tony? Her and Tony?_ Strangely the thought intrigued her and she wasn't able to shake it off for a while. She remembered the first weeks they had worked together. How she had always gotten nervous when he entered her lab, how they had flirted shamelessly. Of course, it had never been anywhere near serious, but it had made her feel appreciated and special. She missed it….Wait a minute had she just admitted to herself that she missed flirting with Tony?

"Okay, trying to work here!" she muttered to herself admonishingly and continued surveying the evidence, determined not to get distracted again. He was not her type anyways. McGee was her type. She liked her men (or better her sex-slaves) slightly geek-ish and shy. Now what did that say about her? That she liked to be the dominating one in a relationship? Definitely. What lay beneath the surface was a little more disconcerting though. Did this mean she was one of those stuck-up, boring people who didn't like to let go and lose control once in a while? Abby let out a frustrated huff and turned off the black light. No spillage, no nothing on the damned clothes.

Abby tapped with her fingers on the metallic surface of the table thinking about the next step to take. She inspected the tags on the cardigan and on the skirt. Funny, the names on them didn't tell her anything, so she decided to run them through the computer. Frankly there were a lot of things speaking against Tony. Obviously the fact that he was an ex-frat boy (she had already disliked them when she was still in college), apart from the fact that he chased after every skirt that crossed his path (though she had to acknowledge that half of the time he wasn't even serious about it. It was part of his act) and the biggest problem of them all – he was a commitment phobic. She had been knowning him for how long? – five years? And he had never had a serious relationship in that long period of time, yet again she had never had one either.

The peeping of the search engine that announced it had finally come up with results to her request brought her back to the present. Multitasking was one of her fortes. So that was a label from back in the 60s. Interesting! What remained to be seen was whether it was just a fake or actual vintage. She took a sample of the fabric to find out. _Tony_…Had she mentioned she loved his smile. It was absolutely great...and infectious. And she kind of liked his hair. She kept wondering what it would feel like if she ran her hands through it. Maybe it would even annoy him a little, because she knew he didn't like anyone touching his hair. (She loved Annoyed-Tony. He pouted like a nine year old) Abby smiled to herself. The corners of her mouth dropped when she realized where that line of thought was going. _Aargh! Not good! Bad Tony! Bad thoughts about bad Tony!_ Worst of all he knew he was hot and that made him really confident even to the point of being cocky (this alone was a euphemism, since he thought himself to be god's gift to all women)…Had she mentioned his presence made her feel comfortable, because it really did. His easy-going way let her relax and melt back into herself. Now what did that mean? Hmmm….It meant she had a problem. Oh, boy!


	5. Gibbs knows

"Okay, people what do we have?" Gibbs breezed into the bullpen with his usual bravado, taking small sips from the steaming hot coffee he had just bought across the street.

McGee was the first to react. There usually was an unspoken competition for their boss's approval between the three agents. Today he had won the right to speak first. The self-satisfied smirk on his face was telltale as he switched on the TV-screen in the middle of the bullpen, "Petty Officer McTroi went missing three years ago. She is the mother of Tracey, aged five," the little girl's picture zoomed in on the screen, "and married to Hank McTroi, a salesman - both of them also missing. They disappeared a week after the Petty Officer. NCIS processed the scene, no fingerprints, no traces whatsoever. Police officially gave up on the case two years ago."

"Good, work McGee," Gibbs praised him.

Tony took this as his cue to speak up. He switched off his computer monitor. The picture of various Google search results for 'action figure' disappeared into blackness. "What McGee failed to mention was that daddy was on his way to pick up little Tracey from school. His vehicle, a grey-metallic Volvo SUV, was spotted there, but apparently they never made it home. His sister in law came by a few days later because nobody had responded to her calls. Found the TV running and the cat eating out of the aquarium. Apparently they didn't plan on leaving," he threw the younger agent a triumphant gaze.

The expression on Ziva's face was slightly sour, but she wouldn't give herself beat so easily. She had one more ace up her sleeve, "I contacted Detective Cameron from the Washington DP, he worked on this case two years ago. He agreed to send us over everything he has on this."

Gibbs nodded in approval, "Any word from Ducky or Abby yet?" just as he asked his cell phone started ringing. He took it out of his jacket, squinted as he tried to read the name on the display, failed and then held out the mobile at arm's length to better the decipher the caller's ID. Abby – he flipped the phone open quickly, "What do you have for me, Abs?"

"I know a really cool second hand store where you can get a nice vintage cardigan and the skirt to match it," he could hear her grin over the line, "But no worries, I've got more apart from fashion advice…By the way Ducky said to tell you he's done with the autopsy and has some interesting information for you."

"I'll be down there in a minute," Gibbs answered.

"Don't forget about my gift. Especially since it's Sunday and you robbed me of my beauty sleep."

"I'd never dare to, Abs."

"Good," with that she hung up.

"Tony…"

"Yes, boss?"

"Go and get Abby her usual! See you down at the lab in….," he looked briefly at his watch to make a better estimation, "five."

"I thought that was McGee's thing," Tony protested. He was senior field agent after all.

"Well, now it's your thing," Gibbs said unimpressed, "And now you've only got four minutes," he called out to him as he breezed towards the elevator with McGee and Ziva in toe, the latter grinning from cheek to cheek.

"Shit," Tony muttered to himself and hurried to get Abby her dose of Caf-Pow.

Down in the morgue Ducky was already awaiting Gibbs arrival. The trio of agents stepped through the door when he was just about to sew the Y-shaped incision on the chest of the Petty officer's corpse shut. He turned around with a cheerful smile on his face, which stood in stark contrast to the rather macabre task he had just focused his attention on.

"Well, Gibbs, Florence isn't such a mysterious woman after all…That reminds me of the time I was in Italy. Aaah, Florence such a lovely town! Of course, I went to see the Uffizi gallery…"

"Ducky," Gibbs growled, "I'm not trying to book a trip to Europe."

"To make it short and sweet, which you will surely appreciate," Dr. Mallard gave Gibbs a pointed look, "Mrs. McTroi died of a natural cause: pneumonia to be exact," he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the agents expectantly. Where was young Tony anyways?

"So this means the perp held her hostage, she got down with a simple cold and he decided to do nothing but wait and see…," Ziva remarked pensively.

"I'm afraid so. See what else really struck me, when I first saw the body, was the fact that she was so pale. It became even more prominent once we had removed the make-up. It's highly probable she's never seen the sun in the last three years."

Tony caught up with the rest of the team right in front of the doors to Abby's lab. He was slightly out of breath, but had managed to make it in time. He held the cellophane cup in his hands like a trophy. Gibbs awarded his efforts with a brief nod, then breezed passed him wordlessly.

Tony hurried to follow. "You'd tell me if I did something to piss him off, 'cause somehow he seems grumpier than usual…," he whispered to Ziva under his breath.

"Seems perfectly normal to me," she answered innocently.

"Right, Ziva," he pronounced her name somewhat over-emphatically, in a way he was sure would annoy her, "Care to fill me in about the case?"

She conveniently ended her summary just as they stepped foot in Abby's lab, half expecting her voice to be drowned out by the loud music there. To their surprise the usual background music had been replaced by something else….an Elvis record? 

"Feeling nostalgic?" Gibbs remarked to her unusual choice of music.

Abby turned around as she heard the sound of his voice and awarded him with a friendly smile, "The King's never out of fashion, Gibbs."

"Truer words never spoken," Tony said and handed her the ice cold soft-drink she had requested. In the process their fingers briefly touched. Abby's eyes widened slightly and her cheek coloured the faintest shade of pink, Tony took a step back, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Other people would have easily overlooked those tiny signals of attraction, not so Gibbs. They had seen the two of them arrive together this morning, when he had come back from Starbucks. That was what had been bugging him constantly. Apart from figuring out his case, he also had to worry about two of his team-members breaking rule number twelve.

"So what about the vic's clothes?" Gibbs asked abruptly.

"Gee, you've never heard about fore-play, haven't you?" Abby calmly drew on her straw, then turned and set down on the stool in front of her computer. "I ran some tests and found out…dun…dun…duh…the clothes are actually vintage fall collection 1963. Judging from the condition they are in I'm guessing they haven't been stored away in granny's attic. They are probably second hand and there is only one shop in the area selling stuff like that," she pressed a few of the blue, fluorescent keys in front of her, "And this is it," the address of a shop named Marguerite's Boutique appeared on the screen.

"Copy it down DiNozzo," he ordered.

"Already done, boss."

Before Gibbs could stride out of the lab purposefully, Abby call out, "Just like the little Train that could…working up way too much steam. Like I said before, there is more…hey, that actually rhymes…So, cool when that happens…Anyways," she caught herself right after Gibbs had shot her a stern look, "The evidence McGee brought me over…The hair samples you lifted off the body – some are from little Tracey, some from her husband. Which means…," she left the rest of the sentence dangle in the air.

"…they maybe still alive and were probably with her when she died. Good work, Abs."

"McGee, Ziva, Ducky said something about the victim being locked up…I'm thinking underground, so check for properties with bomb shelters, vine cellars in the area. Oh, and while you at it have a look at the list of close friends and relatives our contact from the Washington DP provided us with. In my experience the perp's usually one of them. DiNozzo and I will check out that second hand shop in the meantime."

The team divided out side of Abby's lab. Moments later DiNozzo was sitting in Gibb's car and feeling slightly uncomfortable. He tugged self-consciously at the collar of his shirt (not the same one he was wearing yesterday. Lucky, he always kept a spare in the top drawer of his desk) and stared out of the window, watching the other cars on the highway. The shop was at the outskirts of town, which meant at least a twenty minute drive. The sudden need to fill the silence overcame him. He did not know what to say, but that had never kept him from talking.

"So," he used the small word to contemplate the rest of his sentence, stretching it out impossibly, "what about this case…What do you think, boss?"

Instead of an answer he received a smack on the back of his head.

"Ouch!" Tony rubbed the sore spot accusingly, "What?! Are you smacking me on the head for fun now? I was just trying to make conversation."

"Well, DiNozzo, if it's any consolation to you, it was nothing you said. You had this one coming all day."

"Why?"

"Abby," Gibb's eyes narrowed as he looked out on the street in front of them. Tony could swear the car was speeding up.

So Gibbs had jumped the bandwagon as well and was now thinking that Tony had something with Abby. Great! "I know what it might have looked like, but it was totally harmless. I slept over at her house, nothing hinky."

"I know," the older man nodded slowly and shifted gear. Now they were definitely speeding up. Tony briefly checked if his seatbelt was fastened correctly.

"So if you know, what's the problem?"

"If I set up rules for my team I expect you to follow them. Remember number 12?"

"I do, but after McGee dating Abby and you never saying anything, I thought those rules were actually more like guidelines," the reward for his remark was another smack on the back of his head.

"So they are actual rules then…Just a question: Why was it okay for McGee to break them and not for me?"

"McGee doesn't have a website of women who hate him."

"You can hardly hold that against me. Half of the things they're saying about me aren't even true."

"Half of the things they're saying already suffice to incriminate you," Gibbs said with an ironic laugh.

"So what if I wanted to go out on a date with Abby?" Tony asked challengingly. The words were out of his mouth very quickly and a surprised expression flitted over his face, when he realized what he had just said. Was it true? Did he really want to date her? As he pondered upon that thought, he discovered that the idea of taking her out inspired in him a mixture of different feelings: pleasant excitement, utmost dread and above all anticipation. He remembered this feeling from back in high school, when he had still been exciting about taking out a girl. He thought those days where long gone… So he really wanted to go out with her.

"Then you'd better be serious about the whole thing….treat her with respect," Gibbs answered after a while. He had been willing to give DiNozzo some time to think. After all, this was a big step for him. Maybe it meant that his senior agent would finally start behaving 'senior'.

"Of course, I will," Tony nodded emphatically.

"I don't need to remind you that you'd have to be discreet about the whole thing. Try to draw a line between work and what happens in your free-time, because if you're not able to do that, you'd better stick to rule number 12."

"No, I can do it."

"Are you sure?" Gibbs gave him a sideways glance.

"Positive."

"Okay, I don't need to remind you, that if you screw this up it'll be your ass on the line. Your suspension should be the least you should worry about then, you should be worrying about me coming after you," his threat hung in the air for a while and neither of them spoke. Tony gulped heavily, his Adam's apple popping up and down.

"Good, now that this is settled we can focus on more important things again," Gibbs said complacently and took the next exit.

tbc


	6. Sexual harassment

Marguerite was a stout woman in her mid-sixties. She wore too much make-up and her hair was dyed the colour of a rusty penny. The secondhand shop she owned lay on the outskirts of town, so she seldom had any customers. Had it not been for a few regulars who often came to shop extensively, she would have long gone bankrupt.

She was chewing on her gum noisily and doing a crossword puzzle when two men entered her shop. Marguerite looked up to take in their appearance. Her eyes settled on their windbreakers and caps with the white letters NCIS on them. The tip of her pencil broke off when she applied too much pressure, but otherwise she successfully managed to mask her nervousness with politeness. "Welcome to Marguerite's Boutique. You can call me Maggie, how can I help you?" she chimed out in a fake cheerful tone.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs, this is Special Agent Dinozzo. NCIS." He flipped open his badge so she could read his name and the name of federal bureau. She did with squinted eyes, then looked up at him in puzzlement.

"What's the NCIS...is it something like the CSI?"

"No, NCIS stands for...," Tony commenced, but Gibbs interrupted him. "Something like that."

Maggie nodded slowly, "So what can I do for you?"

Gibbs threw a brief look over his shoulder and noticed the security camera above the door. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, which allowed the hint of a complacent smile to flit over his face. He took the picture of the deceased Florence McTroi out of his jacket and placed out on the counter for Maggie to see. She leaned over it and looked at it with interest. Was the woman in the picture sleeping? She looked closer and discovered that she was lying on a metal table. A morgue...she was dead. She sucked in her breath.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" DiNozzo asked.

"Don't call me 'ma'am,' hon'. I'm already 63 and I ain't getting any younger, makes me feel like a granny."

"Are you able to remember the woman in the picture?" Gibbs interrupted the exchange with a gentle but determined push, trying to draw her attention back to the matter at hand.

"I'm not sure. She...it was maybe a month ago. Yeah, I remember now. She was here with her husband and her little daughter...a lovely girl. She broke the sweets jar. She was so embarrassed she apologized the whole time, even though I told her there was nothing to worry about. Such a sweet girl! No way I could have been angry with her. Besides, her parents almost bought the whole shop. I'm not complaining. Really, a pity her mother's...," the rest of her sentence hung in the air, but the way her eyes were staring at the photograph said everything.

"Do you remember anything unusual about the situation? Was there someone else with them?", DiNozzo asked.

"Now that you mention it...there was this guy browsing the shelves over there," she waved her hand in the general direction, "and when the jar scattered he literally jumped in the air. He was really twitchy. He was acting kind of strange, but I thought there was nothing to it."

"I see you've got surveillance. How far do the tapes go back?"

"Oh, those," she indicated the cameras, "I almost forgot about them. Well, I guess they're good for something after all. You'll have my husband to thank for that. The crazy old man, persuaded me we needed them because crime's on the rise. He watches too many crime shows on TV, if you're asking me, puts some stupid ideas in his head."

"Do you still have last month's tape?" Gibbs asked.

"Probably, suit yourself," she shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her seat to size him up.

Abby was running the tape for what seemed to be the hundredth time. It was only a twenty second segment, so she thought she knew it pretty thoroughly by now. She yawned and took a sip of her Caff-Pow! afterwards. The drink was almost drained and a loud slurping noise reverberated through the lab when the straw sucked up the last drops. It was late in the afternoon and her lack of sleep was catching up with her. She was even beginning to have trouble suppressing it by her excessive consumption of caffeinated beverages.

An outstretched hand holding another cup of Caff-Pow! invaded her vision. The hand came out of the arm of a baby blue dress shirt and an expensive watch was fastened around the wrist. The smell of a familiar aftershave invaded her nostrils. She didn't even have to turn around.

"Is this supposed to bribe me into working faster?" she asked and threw him a brief glance over her shoulder.

"No, it's supposed to keep you awake. I didn't tire you out last night, did I?" he asked her and waggled his eyebrows at her. The joke was meant to sound playful, but it came out much more serious than he had intended, thanks to the husky undertone in his voice. The mental image he had conjured played out before his mind's eye, almost against his will. Sweaty skin, moans...he blinked.

"It takes a lot to tire me out, Tony. The activities involved would also have to be more along the lines of 'parental advisory'." She was very conscious of him standing next to her. She could almost feel his body heat. Her heart rate sped up and she gulped. Dry mouth. She quickly snatched the drink from his grasp.

He stepped next to her and therefore out of the danger zone and she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved. She was not sure how to deal with her new feelings for Tony just yet (into what had they mutated, anyway, those filthy little traitors).

He rested his elbows on the table and propped up his head on his hand while he watched her pressing some buttons that froze the picture of the monitor. He sighed. "So, any progress yet?"

"No, the guy still looks like a stranger with a baseball cap and shades to me." She let out a frustrated huff. "I've tried to match him with the pictures of the McTroi's friends and family and guess what? Zero joy." She let the tape run again.

It played to the moment Tracey let the sweets jar fall, because the stranger in the video suddenly jumped, almost knocking over the shelves through which he had been browsing, in the process. He hastily steadied it with his hands and looked around. "Very suave," Tony observed.

"Try watching it ten more times and it stops being funny. Trust me. Not America's Funniest Home Video." The video was playing in the background in an endless loop.

Abby stared at the screen with a bored expression on her face, then suddenly her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. After she had somewhat regained her composure, her ability to articulate words returned. "Hit me!"

"Excuse me?" Tony straightened up in surprise.

"Hit me!"

"Why should I hit you?"

"Look." She froze the video at the point where the man was struggling with the shelf. "Fingerprints. If old Maggie hasn't been dusting lately they should still be there," she exclaimed.

"Nice work, Abbs," he nodded, "but still that doesn't explain the sudden sadomasochism surge."

"I should have seen it before. Hit me!"

"No."

"Hit me!"

"Not gonna happen."

"Hit me!!" she insisted, tapping her foot.

"Hit me!!!"

"Okay." Tony slapped her on the butt, which caused her to let out a surprised squeal. There was an adorable mixture of semi-serious outrage and mischievous delight on her face, which made him grin. "Just for the record, you asked for it, so it's not sexual harassment."

"I didn't see it coming, that's all," she said, while she rubbed the spot he had hit her.

"Obviously." Tony smirked, self-satisfied, and reassumed his position from before.

She threw him a couple of dark sideway glances, which went by unnoticed, since his attention was focused elsewhere. Tony left his spot next to her and stepped closer to the big screen that displayed the picture from the surveillance tape. Now what was with the baseball cap that guy was wearing? There was something printed on it (it was rather crudely done and small) and it didn't look like a brand name. He automatically squinted to be able to decipher it. "Abbs, the cap...could you get the writing on it a little clearer?" he asked over his shoulder.

"There is something written on it?!" She scooted closer to her monitor. "I've been staring at this for an hour now and you come in here and look at it for what? Five seconds? Now why didn't I see it?" she grumbled.

"Well, call me Hawkeye-Tony." He grinned.

"I'll do no such thing." She stuck her tongue out at him, then occupied herself with the computer again. "Just a minute." She pressed a couple of buttons to improve the resolution and bam! there it was.

"Alec's Hardware Shop," Tony read aloud. "I'm guessing that cap's only for special customers. The ones who remodel their homes to accommodate three hostages," he said when he turned around to face her. "Address?"

"Already on your PDA."

"Thanks, you're the best." He gave her a warm smile.

"Yeah, yeah, try charming your way out of this one," she said in a mock annoyed tone.

"Is it at least working a little?"

"Moderately."

"Well, I guess then I have to try harder next time," he quipped, before he hurried out of the door, which seconds later slid open again when he popped his head back in.

"Um...Abbs?" he started. 

Tony being insecure should have already been a huge warning sign. The kind that's a kilometre high and blinking like an enormous twenty feet high beacon. Nevertheless, she stumbled right into it. "Yeah?"

"You, me, tonight after work...dinner?" Talk about suave.

"Is that some sort of stenographic invitation to a date?" Abby asked in a mock flirtatious voice. He had counted on that response. That was the usual behaviour pattern they both were used to and he was about to break it.

"Yes, it is," he said seriously, leaving no doubt about his intention. "So, are you game?" The fact that his speedy return was expected upstairs provided him with a sound excuse to quickly escape if the situation got uncomfortable and also increased his confidence.

She contemplated his questions for a moment, then said, "Yes." Such a monosyllabic answer was unusual for her, but she was surprised so her vocabulary was limited.

"Good...um...then I'll see you later, I guess," Tony said and disappeared through the door, leaving behind a stunned forensic specialist.

tbc


	7. Raw fish wrapped up in algae

The tracks of the perp were easy to follow. He had paid with his credit card at Alec's Hardware Store. It had only been one time - the other times he had paid in cash. As a matter of fact, this one time was enough for the NCIS agents to find out his name and address. One Fred Clerkson, living in an old farmhouse nearby (a farmhouse with an enlarged cellar, Alec informed them after Ziva had batted her eyes at him). Gibbs made a brief phone call to check back with Abby. McGee had been able to lift the fingerprints from the shelf in Maggie's boutique and they had both been busy with finding a match in the database. Only minutes before Gibb's phone call, the computer had chimed out a victorious peep, which now left Abby with the comfortable bolstering of successful research.

"Yep, got him there. Fred Clerkson, age 55. Arrested once for, guess what, stalking and threatening a woman. The case went to trial, but they couldn't prove anything. So the accusations were dropped. He matches the man in the video, same face structure, McGee and I ran the test. It was pretty tricky though..."

"Ziva, Tony and I are on our way to his house." She could hear the humming of the car engine in the background as well as the tension in his voice, so she refrained from mentioning that he had neglected to praise her for her efforts.

"Gibbs...um, don't you think that's a little...um...hasty? What about a SWAT team?"

"Abby, he's still got Tracey and her father. There's no time for that."

"You're right...no time to lose. I understand. Just be careful," she said.

"I always am." With that, Gibbs ended the call. He stuffed the cell phone into his jacket pocket. DiNozzo was driving and clever enough to slow down when they approached Clerkson's estate. The farm house was pretty run down. The wood was bleached out by the sun and in the front yard bore striking similarities to a dump. A strange array of different objects had been discarded there: bicycle without wheels, rusting away in the grass, an antique-looking baby carriage, several car parts, including a ripped off exhaust pipe, the spiky skeleton of an umbrella, a shabby looking grandfather clock.

"I love what he made of this place," Ziva remarked.

"Looks like Dorothy's farm, only after the storm." Tony parked the car and they noiselessly got out of it. The three agents ducked behind the car, so they were protected against any potential attack coming from the house.

"Who's Dorothy?" Ziva whispered to Tony, who tugged at the bullet proof vest underneath his NCIS windbreaker. Since Ari...Kate...he always felt uncomfortable wearing one. It always reminded him of that day. He hoped a day like that would never come again.

"Oh, Ziva, still so much to learn," he said.

Gibbs felt generous and conceded them each a very stern looks, which immediately reminded the two younger agents of their duties. Their faces assumed a serious expression that was more befitting of the situation.

"Ziva, you take the back. Tony and I will approach from the front. Let's try to stay unnoticed as long as possible. Our main objective is to get the McTrois out safely, understood?"

"Yes, boss."

The three agents swarmed out. In moments like that, even the swishing sound of your trouser legs as you run can appear loud. At least, that was the impression Tony was under. His old friend adrenaline was already burning through his body again and fuelling his every action. They had arrived at the veranda. It was hard to move noiselessly there, because of the wooden floorboards, which creaked with each step the agents took. Luckily, they soon reached the door without being noticed.

They stepped inside - Tony first. He quickly assessed the situation. His gun was poised and followed every move he made. There was a stairway which led to the upper level of the house - clear. The corridor - clear. He heard noises coming from down the hall. Someone was preparing a meal inside the kitchen, the telltale noises of clattering plates and the sizzling fat inside a pan told him. He motioned Gibbs to follow him. They made eye contact, which was their only way of communicating, now that even the smallest sound could betray them. Tony mouthed the word 'kitchen' to Gibbs and pointed down the hall. The older agent nodded slowly and started moving into the direction indicated.

They met up with Ziva in the hallway. She was approaching soundlessly; she had not encountered any difficulties entering the house through the back door. Gibbs nudged his head into the general direction of the kitchen door and Ziva nodded grimly. By now it had become clear why the perp hadn't heard them approach. There was music playing inside the kitchen. Of course, something from the sixties.

Gibbs held up his hand, counting down from three with his fingers, then the agents stormed into the kitchen. The man was just about to take the pan from the oven. Thanks to the shock of having three guns pointed at him, it escaped his grasp and its contents emptied in a cascade on the floor. Scrambled eggs and bacon.

"NCIS! Put your hands up in the air, where I can see them!" Gibbs ordered in a tone of voice that forbade even considering non-compliance. The man did as he was told immediately.

Tony stepped up to him and searched him for weapons. "He's unarmed," he announced when he was done. Seconds later, a pair of handcuffs closed around Fred Clerkson's wrists. He didn't even struggle.

Tony had the honour of escorting the perp to the car, while Ziva and Gibbs went to free the McTrois. They soon discovered the stairs that let down to the cellar. They ended in front of a heavy metal door. Quite predictably the key was next to the door on a hook. "Either this guy likes having everything in its place or he's really draft," Ziva remarked.

"It's daft, Ziva," Gibbs informed her curtly and took the key from the hanger.

He opened the door with a vigorous pull. Two pale faces looked at them with an expression of anxiety and hope.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How someone like Fred Clerkson had managed to pull off a stunt like this was still a mystery to Tony. The guy was not particularly smart - probably only of average intelligence. How he had managed to stay undetected for so long bordered on a miracle. What he knew about crime he had learned from watching TV shows. He knew how to keep a low profile, but after a certain period of time, he had started feeling secure, almost invincible. Like no one would ever come behind his dirty little secret - the fact that he hid three living, breathing human beings in his cellar.

His explanation why he had done it was even more adventurous. While Tony had dragged him out of this dump in the middle of nowhere he had kept on muttering that he wanted no harm and that he just wanted his family back together. It was only now, when he had read his file, that he understood why he had repeated those words over and over. Clerkson had never had a proper family. His parents had been divorced when he was about fifteen. For the kid, a hopeless loner, that day in 1965 was one of the worst days in his life. So he had started obsessing. Of course, a sad childhood was never an excuse for committing a crime - it was never a good excuse for anything. He was talking from experience. Tony frowned while he continued writing his report. The blame could not be easily attributed to parents, the circumstances or whatever reason the perpetrator tried to vent in his favour. In the end it all boiled down to this: It was his fault, his responsibility.

Ziva got up from her desk opposite of him, stretching her arms and yawning. When she looked around, she was greeted only by the sight of empty desks (Gibbs and McGee had left half an hour ago) and Tony typing something on his computer, which was odd, since usually he was the first to leave. She threw a glance at her watch - 7 pm. Time to go home, curl up in front of the TV and munch on take-out Chinese food. Of course, Tony's sudden dutifulness needed addressing first. She suspected a connection with the hushed telephone call she had seen him make twenty minutes ago.

"You know even McGee called it a night like an hour ago," she said softly.

He stopped hammering his report into the keyboard and gave her a thoughtful look. "Yeah, Probie's getting sloppy, I guess."

Ziva flashed him a humourless smile. "Come on, Tony. I know you well enough to know that you're not staying behind because of work." He didn't reply and only chewed at his bottom lip sourly. So she was onto something. Her smile became genuine when she realized the reason why he had refused to leave. "Oh my God! You're taking Abby out on a date." She giggled and pointed her fingers at him.

"No comment," he said between clenched teeth.

"Well," she grabbed her leather jacket and sauntered past him with a triumphant smile on her face, "no need, Tony. I can read you like a book." She grinned.

"For which you still need a dictionary occasionally since it's written in English," he called after her. His words were harsh, but his tone of voice was rather tame, so they lacked their sting.

"Have fun, Tony," came Ziva's amused salute, which he registered only dimly over the sound of his grinding teeth.

Fun. It didn't feel like fun when Tony stepped into the elevator a couple of minutes later. He spent the ride down with checking his appearance in the large mirror that covered the back of the elevator cabin. Was his hair still alright? The red digits above the doors seemed like a countdown to him. He flashed his teeth at his reflection. No salad between his teeth. Now, why did he just do that? He never even had salad for lunch. Finally the elevator doors slid open. He could do this. This was just Abby for crying out loud. It was a casual after work thing. No, biggie! He reached into his pocket for a breath mint and popped it inside his mouth.

He sauntered through the sliding doors of the lab. His walk was just as usual, except tonight it lacked its characteristic confidence. Tony looked around the room uncertainly. The sight of test tubes and high-tech equipment, some of which he couldn't even pronounce the name, greeted him, but no Abby. He called out into the empty room, "Abbs?"

"Hey, Tony." She smiled at him as she emerged from the little adjoining room she used as her office. His eyes briefly wandered over her, more a reflex than anything else. They took in her freshly applied make-up, her hair curled up into two tiny buns at the top of her head, and then the way her ripped jeans fitted her curves so nicely.

"I take that look as a compliment," she commented dryly.

"Hey," he raised his hands in the air defensively, "it was definitely meant to be."

"Good." Abby smiled shyly and hesitantly stepped a little closer. "So what kind of date is this then? I'm just checking...no pressure. Just want to make sure we're on common ground here. Because if it's a date-date that would be totally okay. I can do that, I'd just like to know..." He was just taking in his breath and about to start talking, when something else occurred to her. "Oh, and if it's a friends-thing that's okay, too. Totally... absolutely... no biggie. I'm a big girl...and you just wanted to say something, didn't you?" She made an embarrassed face.

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"No problem."

"So." She looked at him expectantly.

"Well," he let out a nervous laugh, "this is actually meant to be a date-date."

"Oh...so what did you have planned?"

"I don't have a plan per se. Since I'm kind of starving, I figured dinner?" he asked.

She nodded at his suggestion. "Definitely a good plan. I'm only running on sugar and caffeine by now and jelly beans just won't cut it anymore."

"Good, so where do you want to go?"

"Umm, do you know the sushi joint across the street?" She grabbed her jacket and motioned at the door. They started walking towards the elevator, each of them unconsciously keeping their distance. Touching suddenly meant something.

"No, I'm not very much for raw fish." The doors slid shut and the elevator set into motion.

"Why? Have you ever tried it?" She tilted her head and looked at him with squinted eyes. Her lips were pursed in a way he had seen often, when she was trying to solve the tricky puzzle some evidence could pose.

"Okay, first of all, I'm a guy...guys don't eat girly food." They stepped out into the main hall. Their steps resounded throughout the empty building as they walked towards the exit. "We like to sink our teeth into a nice and juicy steak. Not a piece of rice wrapped up in algae." He held out the door for her. The gesture was unusual in her universe, but she enjoyed it.

"Girly food?" She grinned at him deviously as she walked past him. "How about a deal, Tony?"

"I'm up for anything."

"Good to know." Abby winked at him. "So you're up for sushi too, I suppose. I'm not asking for much. Just give it a try. If you don't like it, I'll buy you a nice and bloody chunk of cow to feast upon. Are you game?" She held out her hand to him. For the first time, he noticed her elegant long fingers. The picture was only marred by the chipped black nail polish she wore. He finally took her hand and shook it.

"Bring it on." He grinned.

They sauntered in companionable silence across the street, towards the restaurant. One could tell from the way it was decorated that it was the typical after-work place. It was clean, efficient and the kitsch factor was turned down to a minimum - except for those tiny boats, on which the sushi was circling around the counter in the middle of the restaurant. The place was crowded and he was starting to have his doubts as to whether they would find a place to sit. Abby had obviously spotted two empty seats and was already headed for the left side of the counter with purposeful strides. He hurried after her.

They sat down next to each other and shortly after, the waiter appeared. Two tiny cups of rice wine were placed in front of them as a welcome gift. Tony sniffed at it suspiciously, but as Abby toasted him, he took a sip. The warm and salty liquid poured down his throat pleasantly.

"Nice." He looked at the cup appreciatively then at Abby.

"I know, but careful. I once had two of those babies on an empty stomach and afterwards I was singing Disney songs all night."

"Disney? Aw, my cute little girl." He pinched her cheek teasingly.

"I was a little tipsy." She swatted his hand away with a grin on her face. "So, at least I'm a cute drunk, what about you, Mister Ex-Frat Boy?"

"Ah, the good old days." There was a thoughtful expression on his face. "There was definitely lots of dancing and off-key singing involved."

"So would you say those were the best days of your life?" Abby looked at him, her head propped up on her hands.

He hesitated briefly, then shook his head. "Nah, not the best, but pretty good. Lot's of parties, fun, minimal responsibilities...come on, what's not to like about it? But at some point it feels like you've seen it all, gets pretty repetitive. It's nice to think back occasionally, but I'm not dwelling." He shrugged, as if the seriousness behind his words meant nothing.

"That's good," she nodded, " 'cause the here and now sometimes is a pretty cool place."

"Yeah." Tony smiled. Shortly after, his grumbling stomach reproachfully decided to remind him that it was high time he ate something, "So what about the sushi?"

"Oh, good idea!" She said enthusiastically.

They both helped themselves to a portion from the conveyer belt. Tony fiddled with his chop sticks indecisively, shooting his plate suspicious looks. There was a tiny smudge of some sort of green paste on the corner of it. He wondered what that was.

"Alright, fill me in, how does this work?" Tony finally asked in resignation.

"Okay, first of all you take the sushi, dip it into the soy sauce, then you take a little bit of wasabi...that's the green stuff there...emphasis is heavy on the little, because it's really, really super hot and that's practically it."

"Surely can't be that hot..."

"Okay, I see we're feeling all macho-man tonight." She puffed up her chest and gave him a mock serious nod. "Suit yourself."

And he did. Only that he regretted it seconds later. His mouth felt as if it was on fire and tears shut his eyes. The chef behind the counter who was preparing the sushi threw him a pitiful look, but his vision got blurry thanks to his watery eyes. Then a pair of chopsticks hovered before his face, holding some yellow slippery slices.

"Open up," he heard Abby order, but hesitated. "This is going to help. Trust me." In his desperation, he obeyed. His overreacting taste buds recognized the thing she had offered him as ginger. Surprisingly, it really did help.

"Better?" She asked with a hopeful smile.

"Yep." He mirrored her facial expression, then his smile grew into a genuine grin. He laughed softly and shortly after Abby joined in.

"I'm sorry, but your face...," she was panting a little thanks to the laughing fit that shook her, "absolutely priceless...I've never seen someone flush like that...it was like multicolour flush, you know? First white, then bright red...on a second thought it was actually more like a huge blinking light bulb." She giggled.

"Ouch, that hurts." He touched his heart in a dramatic pose. "She compares my head to a light bulb."

"No, oh no! Hell no! That's not what I meant. You've got a fine head. I love your head, one of the best ones in the world - really," Abby stuttered.

"It's okay." He covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. He briefly contemplated drawing it back, there was definite flinching, but then he left his hand where it was. "Relax," he said softly. He might as well use his own advice.

"Kind of hard." She gave him a half-smile.

"Why?" Tony leaned closer.

"Because my mind's always working, thinking in two hundred different direction a minute. It feels like I'm totally wired and I keep worrying that I'll mess this up, because I usually don't do dates. Well, I do them, but I'm not very good at them. I know how they're supposed to work theoretically. There's dinner, talking and a kiss at the end of the night. It's as simple as that. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out, but then again they would probably suck at dates, too, because they would keep over-thinking stuff..."

"Abby," he interrupted her gently and smiled at her in reassurance.

She stopped her ramble with a self-conscious, "Sorry."

"I'm nervous, too," he admitted finally.

"Is that a good sign or a bad sign?"

"A good one," he contemplated the statement briefly, "definitely a good one. I usually don't get nervous before dates anymore."

So this actually meant something. Abby looked at their hands. His still covered hers. She had still to get used to the sight and, above all, the feel of that. She found that gesture to be more intimate than any of the hugs they had shared in the last couple of years. His index finger slowly started moving over the back of her hand and sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. Her posture relaxed a little.

"Okay," she said finally. It meant okay, she could do that. He understood.

"Okay," Tony answered. The looks that passed between them were pretty intense. Like the rest of the world didn't matter. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that degree of intensity yet.

"So, sushi not such girly food after all," Abby said after a while to lighten the mood.

"Nope." He drew back his hand to take up his chopsticks again. The moment was gone. Good thing about sushi - it didn't get cold. And quite tasty too.

They finished their meal, falling back into a more comfortable rapport. They talked about everything and nothing, easily staying shy of more serious topics. The crowd around them started thinning out; it was already around nine. Abby started scooting on her uncomfortable stool, but was reluctant to finish the evening yet.

"These chairs are certainly not designed for a long sit; my butt's already crying for mercy. Shall we move this somewhere else?" Tony suggested.

"Yep." She jumped of the stool happily.

They paid at the counter and then saunter over to the NCIS building to get Tony's car. She surprised him by slipping her arm around his waist in a way that suggested she had done so a million times. A broad grin settled on his face, but he didn't comment on her action, instead he laid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

The lighting inside the garage automatically turned on when they approached, thanks to the motion detectors that were installed there. Fluorescent lights - not very romantic. The garage was empty except for his car that stood there waiting. He took the keys from his pocket, slowly aimed at the direction of his BMW - watching too many James Bond movies would do that to you - and pressed the button. The lights briefly flashed as the doors unlocked. Tony smirked, self-satisfied. The whole manoeuvre was really to show-off and completely him.

"So where to?" he asked her.

"No idea. Sometimes I love to cruise. I simply keep driving until I find something that piques my interest. It's pretty cool. I got to know the city that way." Abby leaned against the side of his car casually. Apparently she had no idea how hot she was looking. To hell with Miss December Auto Motor Sports! Then again maybe she did. That little smile on her face at least suggested it.

"I don't know." He mirrored her pose and crossed his arms over his chest. "Being flustered and driving...not the best combination."

"Oh, come on, Tony! That's a pretty lame line. Am I supposed to believe that? You've been on how many dates? About a gazillion? And now you're all of a sudden flustered? I think not. This is just an act to help you get what you want." She looked at him with her head tilted a little to the left. Her gaze was gentle but inquisitive.

"What if it is? Would it be that bad?" He said with a lopsided grin. She had him there.

"Bad? No, not bad." She shook her head and smiled a little. "It's just...Well, I've seen it all. So no acts, okay? Just tell me what you want."

"Okay." He paused a little. He was used to her straightforwardness, but he wasn't prepared for the fact that it comprised all aspects of her life. He usually had to insinuate and pay compliments to get what he wanted. It was an unspoken mating ritual. Apparently it did not apply to her. She wanted honesty...and he could give her that. He not only could, but wanted to be honest with her and let her in. "I keep thinking about kissing you," he finally admitted.

"And that makes you nervous?" She asked somewhat redundantly.

"Pretty much."

"Why?" Abby inquired.

"Unknown territory." He kept looking at her lips. It was hard to not look at them, since she always wore that dark red lipstick that accentuated them.

"Here there be monsters...Kissing doesn't complicate matters, sex does," Abby remarked dryly, licking her lips unconsciously. God, she was a tease!

"Truer words never spoken." Tony briefly paused. "You do know that you've just put all kinds of kinky images in my head, right?"

"Hey, don't blame me! I was just trying to help." The expression on her face pretended absolute innocence, but the mischievous smile on her lips implied the contrary.

Instead of an answer, he just stepped in front of her. She looked at him with those big saucer eyes. He placed his hand against the car for support and pulled her into an embrace with his free arm. She felt the beginning of a stubble rub against her cheek. It felt nice, but just as she was about to relax and simply enjoy the sensation of being held by him, her worst enemy awoke again. In no time, her mind filled with pessimistic thoughts of how this would all go wrong. She tried to persuade it to be silent once again, knowing that those were irrational fears, but could not. Her musings suddenly were interrupted by his lips on hers. She hadn't expected that. Her eyes widened, teeth clashed.

He drew back and looked at her. To her surprise there was a smile on his face. "Okay, you need to switch that off." His index finger softly touched her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't. I'm crazy thoughts lady, remember? Unless you beat me with a club over the head..."

"I'm sure there are other ways that are less painful," Tony said with a sexy smirk on his face. With that, he moved in again. His lips brushed gently against hers, but not without a certain insistence. She opened her mouth slightly, slowly beginning to remember how to kiss. As their tongues briefly touched, the thoughts inside her head burst like soap-bubbles. Her hands that had until now hung down at her sides pulled him closer. She responded with a fervour that quickly heightened the intensity of the kiss. Her teeth grazed his bottom lip, which provoked something like a growl from him. Hands roaming everywhere, accelerated breathing, his body pressed firmly against hers. This was moving too fast. They had potential. They were like two elements in a chemic experiment, a wrong move and there would be an explosion.

They broke apart. It was as if they both had simultaneously decided that this was moving too fast. When he looked at her, he saw her pupils were dilated, so that her eyes were dark pools, rimmed by an emerald margin. Her lipstick was slightly smudged and her mouth almost formed a perfect 'o'. He would have expected her to say something. Usually her thoughts quickly translated into words. Not this time.

"Abby?"

"Mmmhumm."

"Why aren't you saying anything?" His voice didn't sound timid. It never did. Yeah, right!

"Wow?"

"Wow?" He looked at her in surprise, but it was one of the pleasant kind.

"Yeah, a definite wow!"

"Well, right back at you." He smiled at her boyishly. The situation, as well as the way she looked at him, as if he was catnip, made him kind of jumpy. "Oh, if you still want to go cruising...let's just postpone this for a while okay, because I'm not really in a condition to be driving now," he suggested clumsily. Apart from that, his words didn't really fit the situation. They seemed oddly out of place.

"Tony?" She looked at him from underneath her eyelashes.

"Yes?" He was under her thrall again, completely mesmerized by her mannerisms, the way her lips moved when she spoke.

"I think we both need to stop taking our turns at freaking out if this is supposed to be working," Abby said calmly.

"I know." Tony let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He felt antsy. Hormones were rushing through his body and the lack of sleep was getting to him. Not a good combination. "I think it would be best if we would take this slow...um...slower," he said after a while.

She nodded emphatically; trying to get used to the fact that Tony Dinozzo, aka NCIS's chick magnet, had just suggested that they should not rush things. "Slow is good, because let's face it, if we would have kept going at it like this I would have seen the garage in a totally different light by tomorrow." Abby threw him a dirty half grin.

He gulped, his Adam's apple popping up and down, as he tried to repress all those naughty fantasies that were flooding his consciousness at her words. "You know that messing this up is not an option?"

"Why, because you're afraid that Gibbs might whoop your ass?" She still wasn't taking the situation entirely seriously.

"No, because I care about you," he admitted softly. His tone of voice was very serious. It made her turn her head in astonishment and look at him. She was not accustomed to this side of him. She was accustomed to joking, non-serious, macho Tony, not to mature and oddly sensitive Tony. Maybe she didn't know him that well after all.

"I care about you, too, you know," she said, her tone of voice matching his. Her hand found his and their fingers entwined. "Where is this," she gesticulated with her free hand between the two of them, "going? Any ideas?"

"Not yet," he admitted truthfully.

She hesitated. "Well, I guess that's okay. We'll figure it out along the way. After all, that's what we do for a living - figure things out."

tbc


	8. Wake up, Neo!

Most of her first dates ended in disaster, but so far this one was going surprisingly well. They had continued talking for a while, their voices reverberating inside the empty garage and then he had taken her home, even accompanied her all the way up to her door. Now they stood there looking at each other, uncertain what to say next. She was toying with the rings around her fingers; he was fiddling with the key ring inside his pocket. It made a soft jiggling noise.

She raised her head and finally looked at him. Their eyes met and the breath caught inside her throat. Abby coughed. She was usually so good at talking and breathing simultaneously. As a matter of fact she did it all the time.

"Are you alright?"ﾝ He asked.

"Yeah, fine...just a total klutz. That's all."ﾝ

"Oh, self-deprecation...that's ugly! You're not a klutz,"ﾝ Tony said gently.

"You're obliged to say that...after all, you're my date."ﾝ She grinned at him.

"I'm not just saying that of a sense of obligation but because I mean it. You..," he pointed his finger at her, "definitely miles away from being a klutz. Never seen anyone doing a cartwheel in plateau boots quite like you." Tony grinned. "And that's probably the first time I've ever made a compliment like that."

"Well, it was a good compliment." She smiled. "Very genuine and sweet."ﾝ She stepped a little closer and kissed him briefly on the lips. "I'd ask you to come in, but we know where this might lead."

"Hot kinky sex?"ﾝ He kissed her back, his fingers gracing over the nape of her neck. She shuddered.

"Definitely. Hot mind blowing sex."ﾝ She grinned against his lips as he kissed her more fervently. They were going to take it slow...slow...slow...What was it she had just been thinking about? Just as her mind was about to bid her farewell and cause her to zone out completely, she could hear a muffled voice approached her ears. It sounded like someone was calling her name. It couldn't be Tony since his tongue was currently occupied with other things than articulating words. Apparently he had heard it too, since he stopped kissing her.

She turned her head slowly and spotted Sasha at the end of the corridor, who was approaching with huge and purposeful strides. It looked as if she was angry.

Tony made a grimace and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Well, this looks like fun, but I think I will skip the catfight just this once...Give me a call once you've started mud wrestling and tearing each others' hair, because that's just really hot."

Apparently uncomfortable situations made him fall back into his normal behaviour. Abby smiled. "Will do. See you tomorrow at work."ﾝ She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and he started walking down the corridor.

Sasha brushed past him and shot him a dirty look in the process, but he just continued on his way, unimpressed. There was even a certain happy spring in his step. The young woman threw a brief glance at her best friend and when she saw the wistful smile on her face, her anger disappeared (Abby had been supposed to give her a call this morning, to make sure she had gotten home alright) and was replaced by curiosity.

"Okay, honey. Spill it, who was this hunky guy you were just playing tonsil hockey with?"ﾝ She said instead of a greeting when she had reached Abby.

"Tony,"ﾝ Abby said with a smile, unlocking her door.

"Tony as in Tony from work?"ﾝ Sasha asked incredulously and followed her friend inside her flat.

"Yup, the same exact one,"ﾝ Abby said and flopped down on her couch.

"You never told me he was that good looking."ﾝ She sat down next to her.

"I've never paid that much attention to it. I mean, I noticed when I first met him, but I kind of forgot after a while. It's like a mole on the face of a person that you've known for years. You just forget it's there."

"So how did you go from being just colleagues to making out in front of your door?"

"I don't know." A telltale smile was still tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Abby! You can't do this to me!"ﾝ She looked at her with huge brown puppy dog eyes and gripped her arm over-dramatically.

"Okay." Abby grinned at her. "You get the full story, sordid details and all."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sasha made herself comfortable on Abby's couch while she listened. She kicked of her shoes and hugged a cushion to herself. At some points during Abby's tale, she frowned, but didn't say anything. Sasha let her finish her story without interruption. Dating a co-worker - Hello, complication! She let out a long drawn sigh.

"I hope that sigh was an introduction to some brilliant advice you are about to give me."ﾝ Abby looked at her hopefully.

"Okay,"ﾝ Sasha said slowly. She tired to organize the disarray of thoughts inside her head into coherent phrases. "This is not advice per se."ﾝ She let out a breath. "It's more an observation, okay?"

"Okay." Abby nodded her consent.

"You know I love you like a sister, sweetie...and I'm just saying this because I feel I need to. I want what's best for you. You know I'm kind of like a mother hen when it comes to that." The two friends shared a smile. "I'm not going to interfere and tell you what to do; this is just the way I think it, the way I perceive it. It just strikes me that you and Tony...you're both people who don't like to commit. Tell me if I'm wrong?" She paused and looked at her friend expectantly.

"No, no you're not."ﾝ She made a wave with her hand and grabbed a cushion to hug it to her midsection. Her mouth disappeared behind its corner, while her eyes glittered curiously in the dim light.

"Do you really like him?"

"Yes."

"Is it more than liking?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he knows how he feels about you?"

"Probably not."

"You're the one with a fancy degree in psychology. How does that sound to you?" Sasha looked at her questioningly.

"Hmmm...like Tony was right. We should definitely take it slow."ﾝ

"Wait a minute he suggested that?"ﾝ Sasha looked at her in disbelief.

"Yes, why?"

"From what I know about him, he wouldn't have struck me as the type of guy who's ready to step down a gear or two for the sake of a girl. I think he definitely likes you."

"You don't say? Now what made you suspect something absurd as that?" Abby smiled at her good-humouredly. The ironic undercurrent in her voice was hard to miss.

"Well, maybe the excessive smoochies that were going on in front of your door when I arrived?"ﾝ Both women shared a laugh at that. Then the laughter subsided and left them sombre.

"Just don't get your heart broken, hun',"ﾝ Sasha said quietly.

"I'll try not to."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whenever he told someone he was working for the NCIS, people looked at him with a confused expression on their faces. Of course, he was not going around blurting out whenever he could that he was working for a federal agency. It was just when his friends or family members asked. Whenever that confused look appeared he felt obligated to tell him that the NCIS is was something like the FBI. (That analogy was not to his liking, but it made up for an easy explanation.) What ensued were usually all kinds of adventurous theories on how he spent his days. Apparently it was a widespread belief that federal agents were running around all day with their weapons drawn, chasing after dangerous criminals. It really wasn't as glamorous as that. Half of the time their cases were rather trivial. It only happened once or twice a month that they came across something exceptional.

What most people had a hard time believing was also the fact that he had to do quite a lot of paperwork. Special Agent Tony Dinozzo let out a long drawn sigh and rubbed his eyes, while he stared at the PC-screen in front of him. It was Monday morning and he was still occupied with filing away the paperwork for the Clerkson case. Several rows of words were nicely lined up on the white font of the screen in front of him, the cursor was blinking at the end of an unfinished sentence accusatory, while there was a pop-up window in the upper corner of the screen with the game of solitaire he had just started. He almost let out a yelp when suddenly his monitor went black. His first thought was: Damn! Computer virus! But then some mysterious writing appeared on the top of the screen. He leaned closer automatically. It read:

_Wake up, Neo._He looked at the green letters somewhat suspiciously, frowned briefly and then hesitantly typed his response. It was only one word: _Abby?!_

_Gee, not only good looking, but quick on the uptake as well. I'm such a lucky girl._

He let out a soft chuckle, which caused Ziva to look at him suspiciously. "I just made a funny typo," he tried to cover somewhat clumsily. She gave him a slow nod, which indicated she clearly doubted his sanity and went back to work.

_Better keep that in mind,_ he wrote with a satisfied smirk on his face.

_I'll try but you'll have to refresh my memory from time to time._ ;P

_Oh, trust me I will._ The grin on his face broadened further if that was even humanly possible. Memories of last night flashed before his mind's eye. She was definitely a good kisser. He didn't mind a repeat performance.

His mind still filled with naughty thoughts he began typing his next comment, _So what are you wearing?_ After that, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head in satisfaction, waiting for her next response. He didn't have to wait long.

Abby: _What do you think? I'm stark naked and posing in front of my web cam._

Tony: _Oh, really. In that case, I can let you in on a little secret. McGee and I've just been racing each other naked through the whole bullpen. All in the name of the Olympic spirit, of course._

A.: _Lol, I can't believe Ziva didn't call me!_

T.:_ You have to understand, she wanted us all to herself. The winner was awarded with certain sexual benefits and the loser got a spanking._

A.: _If you had wanted a spanking you could have just come down here, I'll be happy to administer it._

His jar dropped at this comment. A short pause followed. She was probably thinking about what to write next, after their teasing had transgressed its zenith.

A.: _I take it you're you just as bored as I am?_

T.: _You have no idea. I even resorted to playing solitaire._

A.: _Oh, so you pretty much hit rock bottom. I've got an idea, interested?_

Something about the way the cursor was blinking at the end of this question was extremely suggestive.

T.: _Any suggestion coming from you always has me interested. _

A.: _Can you sneak away from your desk?_

T.: _I think so._

A.: _Alright, then do it now. Go over to the elevator._

With that his screen turned back to normal, for a second he wondered whether it had all been in his imagination. He threw a look over at the elevator and noticed that the light above the door had turned on. There was a red arrow pointing upwards flashing repeatedly. He got up quickly. Ziva shot him a surprised look, while McGee didn't even look up and Gibbs desk was as empty as it had been all morning.

"Potty break." He grinned at her in semi-embarrassment. He would have garnished his excuse better if he had had the time, but the elevator beckoned.

Ziva returned to work, as he had hoped and he was able to sneak over to the other end of the room without being noticed. The elevator arrived, the doors slid open, a pale little hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and drew him in. The door slid shut again with a soft ding. It didn't turn any heads.

"Hi."ﾝ Abby smiled at him smugly.

"Hi,"ﾝ he said, readjusting the collar of his shirt. He started to say something but she raised her index finger to her lips, effectively silencing him.

"I've always wanted to do this."ﾝ She hit the emergency button and looked at him with a huge Cheshire grin. The lighting inside the elevator cabin changed from bright fluorescent light to a soft blue shine.

"Cozy," he remarked and stepped closer to her, encircling her waist with his arms. His heart was speeding up a little as he did so. This was still very new to him and he still felt kind of insecure about being intimate with her, whereas she didn't seem to have any problems of that nature whatsoever. She leaned back in his arms and looked up at him with a mischievous grin. The expression on her face changed when she noticed the way his eyes were nervously wandering here and there.

"Still uncomfortable about this?"

"Not uncomfortable...it's just that this is very new to me, I guess. Nothing to worry about." He gave her a weak smile. As a matter of fact, there were a couple of things that had him worried. Was he even capable of having a serious relationship? He was willing to give it a try, but was that enough?

He had been with a couple of women in the last years...alright, a lot of women and somehow they had all seemed interchangeable to him. Tony had never taken the time to get to know them, to see them as real people with emotions and problems of their own. His sexual innuendos were the dirty fantasies of every frat boy come true, but they were just that - fantasies. There was comparatively little complication, not the kind of complication a real relationship could cause.

Now Abby...Abby was real in every sense of the word. He knew her...cared for her. There was definitely complication lurking at the horizon, because she would never content herself with superficiality. Once something had captured her interest her keen mind always had to prop and prod until its curiosity was satiated. Being in a relationship with her meant he would have to let her in. Allow her to see him for who he truly was, which would leave him what - emotionally naked? In that aspect, he was still a virgin, though when it came to sex he was the very opposite of that.

Abby narrowed her eyes and gave him a funny look, as if she had just read his thoughts. She stepped back and broke the contact between them. She walked over to the opposite wall of the elevator cabin and looked at him with her arms crossed over her chest. "You know, there are a couple of things more intimate than sex."ﾝ Now that comment most definitely assured him in the belief that she was a mind reader. "Sex is just two bodies mating and while that's really fun, it can just be one of the most impersonal things on earth. Feelings don't have to be involved...at all. Women can have sex the way men do as well...without second thoughts or regrets. Believe me I know." Her arms slid over her body until her palms rested against the cool metal of the wall.

He'd seen a lot of different sides of Abby. The playful little sister, the colleague, the professional, the Goth, but he'd never seen this predatory side of hers. Oddly enough, he felt cornered in this little cabin somewhere between floors. "With you it would never be just sex,"ﾝ he said, somewhat strained.

"Oh, believe me. I've had enough of casual sex, I'm ready to progress to the advanced level. I'm ready for something more dangerous."

"And what would that be?" The question came out of his mouth almost against his will.

"Love,"ﾝ Abby said as her intense green eyes bore into him like daggers. "It just remains to be seen how much you are ready to risk."ﾝ

He remained quiet, just as she had expected. She was more in contact with her feelings, though they were sometimes fickle. She doubted he ever allowed himself a moment of contemplation and if he did it was when he was alone, never when anybody was around him. Seeing a more serious side of him was a rare occasion.

"We can break this off right here, if you're uncomfortable. No, biggie, just revert to the way it was..."

"But I don't want to." His reply took away some of her bravado.

"That's good because I don't want to, either." For a moment, silence settled inside the elevator, either of them standing on opposite sides of it. Abby let out a huff and then purposefully pushed off from the wall. "Okay, now that we did the talking, we can progress to the part where we kiss, because that's how I originally planned it. You know, making out with you in the elevator. After all, what is an elevator good for if not for serious necking and private conversations...though I hope that's not what Gibbs and Fornell do inside here..." She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought. Fifty percent of that mental image was okay, the Gibbs part, but not Fornell. Yuck!

"Ugh, thanks for that mental image." He shook himself.

"I could make it go away." She grinned and advanced on him.

"You better be thorough about it,"ﾝ he said before his lips descended on hers for a kiss. And what a kiss it was. She stayed true to her promise. It made him forget all about his worries, made him forget about a whole lot of things, as a matter of fact.

A couple of minutes later, he remerged from the elevator. His hair was slightly dishevelled and a happy grin was plastered on his face. He hummed to himself as he sat down at his desk again.

tbc


	9. I want to thank you

**Author's note: **_Sorry, for the delay! Next chapter will be up ASAP._

There are unspoken rules to dating. You know, what to do at date number one and two, when you're allowed to kiss, when you're allowed to sleep with each other...stuff like that. As far as dating went, they had been respectful to decency beyond all measures. It was their tenth date, yet nothing beyond second base had happened. Nothing serious had happened. Nothing that serious, at least, that would have led to Abby calling McGee in order to stay true to her promise that she would tell him when she was getting into a new relationship with someone.

So it was Saturday night and Tony had invited her to this fancy-schmancy restaurant. She was not exactly comfortable with it, but then again, he had agreed to go bowling with her, he even had been to one of her favourite clubs with her (and even managed to have a good time), so she was ready to compromise.

Abby sucked in her breath and began closing the front of her corset. She was standing in front of her full-length bedroom mirror, eyeing the ensemble she wore critically: a black secretary skirt, fishnet stockings, plauteau pumps and a dark violet blouse. The black corset let her slim midriff shrink even more and nicely accentuated her curves just the way she had planned. She hadn't felt this hormonal since high school and had decided that it was about time they gave into their urges. Her choice of clothing was supposed to serve as a pointer in the right direction. Maybe Tony would get the hint...or not...Men were usually thick like that when it came to subtlety. She let out a sigh.

Her hands reached out (in itself it was already some kind of yoga pose) to tie up the back of the corset. Having lived alone, she was quite capable of doing it herself, but at the last minute her fingers paused. Better let Tony do it. She threw her mirror image a smug little smirk as she called out his name. He hesitantly entered the room a few seconds later. His hesitance was understandable since he had never been inside of her bedroom. In the last two weeks, they had been out a lot, but never alone with each other, let alone inside a bedroom or anywhere you could lie down. It was only now that it occurred to her. Maybe it was his way of avoiding temptation. Well, enough of the avoiding! Confront the fear, face it, then bed it. Her grin broadened. Yes, nasty thoughts! So what if she hadn't had sex in a while...The thought of having sex with him, especially since they had agreed to taking it slow, had the air of something forbidden and was therefore becoming more and more appealing.

"You called?" His attempt at a smug and his boyish smirk reflected back at her from the mirror.

"Yes, I need a helping hand." She licked her lips...her dark lips. The image of her pink tongue tracing them slowly stuck in his mind for a while. He shook his head as if to rid himself of that image.

"Sorry, how can I help you?"

"Tie me up?" She winked at him.

"And I thought I'd never hear those words from you." His voice was close to her ear and sent pleasant shivers down her back. She didn't let him see, however, what kind of effect his closeness had on her. This was a situation she had created. She wanted to stay in control.

"I've never done this...so just tell me when it's too tight," he said, taking the laces in his hands.

"When I pass out it's too tight." She grinned.

"Well, thanks for the tip. Ready?"

"Yes, we're not exactly launching a rocket here. It's no big deal." Way to go with the sexual imagery. Actually, she wanted to launch a rocket. Her left eyebrow rose while she considered that thought.

She felt his fingers working at the laces, progressing from top to bottom, where the two long ends were that needed to be tied up correctly. He pulled tentatively.

"Harder," she said with a low voice that was loaded with sexual connotations.

He obeyed her order. A jolt went through her body as he pulled at the lacing and the corset tightened. She let out a tiny, well-calculated sigh. His fingers paused. No reaction for a while. She studied his face in the mirror curiously.

"Abby," he said to her warningly.  
"What?" She answered sweetly.

"If you don't want me to jump you, you better cut it."

"Well, in that case, I'll have to keep it up..." She threw him a mischievous smile through the mirror as she turned around. "Enough of slow, okay?"

He hesitated and his eyes searched her face for awhile. Whatever he had been looking for there, he had found. "Okay," he said and kissed her. She grabbed the lapels of his dinner jacket and slowly moved backwards until she felt the bed bump against the back of her legs. She let herself fall down on it and brought him with her, so that he rested on top of her.

She had all these lusty feelings, all these naughty very plastic images flitting through her head of what she liked to do to him, but apart from that, there was something else. That something else was very elusive and she didn't have any time to concentrate on elusive details now that his hand was wandering up her thigh and his tongue was exploring her mouth. Her hands roamed over his back and came to rest on his bottom. She gave it a playful squeeze.

He stopped kissing her and smirked at her cockily. "Bet you've been wanting to do that for a while now?"

She looked at him innocently and even managed a nonchalant shrug. "Amongst other things."

"Like what?" He asked.

"Like this." She flipped him over, and since he was on all fours and rather cooperative, it wasn't hard to do.

She playfully kissed the side of his neck, then decided to up the ante a little. Her teeth grazed over his skin, the caress skidding somewhere between the blurry lines of pleasure and pain. Just the way she liked it. And he did as well, apparently. He let out a soft moan. She smiled to herself contently and continued her ministrations at the other side of his neck.

"You do realize that I'll still have to peel you out of that..." He paused when her tongue touched his skin. Hot, wet...Nice. It took him some time and considerable effort to recover the rest of the sentence. "We have to get you out of that corset thingy."

"I figured you being an expert when it comes to bras, I should up the challenge a little." Abby grinned at him.

"How very considerate of you." What followed was a surprised squeal when he easily flipped her over and rolled her on her stomach so he could undo the lacing he had tied up only minutes ago. His fingers trembled a little thanks to a mixture of anticipation and excitement, but he still managed to get the job done. "Now the hooks. Turn around." She did so, complying to his soft spoken command.

There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye and something else he could not identify. His eyes fell on her mouth again, which was slightly open, her lips still rosy from their last kiss. He bent down for another one. His hand wandered up her thigh again and under the hem of her skirt. They trailed further upward - the soft material rustled. He continued the caress. Where her stocking ended his fingers came to touch naked flesh and something else...a garter belt. He broke apart from her and looked down at her with a pleased and equally smug expression on his face.

"You know that a garter belt is something like the holy grail. Every man's hoping it'll cross his way someday." He waggled his eyebrow at her suggestively.

"In that case, I'll have to let you in on a little secret." She motioned him to come closer with her index finger. "I've got more than one." Her husky voice was right beside his ear and did all kinds of funny things to his body, mainly the part between his legs.

Weeks of teasing finally led to its only possible culmination. His mind waved him goodbye and decided to take a brief holiday as he crushed his lips to her. He vaguely registered the removal of clothes, hers and his, then - and that sensation was anything but vague - the feeling of naked skin against naked skin. The universe shrunk to a tiny bubble that held only the two of them. What counted there was only the principle of cause and effect. When he kissed her stomach and teased her nipples with his tongue, she would moan and that moan would ripple through his body and only increase his hunger for her and his want to hear that sound again. Closer, closer, still closer to her. But not yet. Hold back, draw out the pleasure as long as you can.

He could feel her nails running over his back as he kissed the inside of her thigh. She felt it, too. That kind of pull. It had become urgent by now and could no longer be denied. Closer, closer...it was like a frenzy. He wanted to feel her now.

His gaze searched for approval in her face. "Screw foreplay," she said in that husky, low voice that seemed to go straight to his groin. He slowly nodded and entered her.

When she woke up in the middle of the night, her sleep-clotted mind registered some unusual changes to her nightly routine. One, she was naked underneath the sheets, which led to the realization that two, she hadn't slept alone. She had had sex...with Tony. Her hand slowly found its way over to the other side of the bed, feeling for his sleeping form next to her as if to reassure herself that it hadn't been just some mad realistic erotic dream. All she found was ruffled sheets, cold ruffled sheets to be precise. Abby slowly sat up. Her eyes adapted to the darkness around her and she could see a soft shimmer of light coming out from under her bedroom door.

She got up. Her bare feet connected with a piece of clothing as she did. She bent down and picked it up. From the feel of it, it had to be Tony's dress shirt. She put it on and padded towards the door as she was buttoning it up. Once outside, she quickly located the source of light. It was coming from the kitchen. Someone was having a midnight snack without inviting her. How rude! She smiled and silently padded towards the kitchen. She stopped in the door frame.

Tony stood there, only clad in black boxer briefs, one arm draped over the open refrigerator door, while he rummaged through its contents. Apparently he had just spotted the milk she had bought yesterday. He pulled out the carton and took a large gulp. Now normally she hated when people drank straight out of the box. Gee, she had even given McGee an half an hour lecture as to why it was unsanitary and completely disgusting. What point was there in pasteurising milk, if your spittle ran back into the carton? Strangely enough, she realized that right now she didn't care. What she cared about now was how cute Tony looked just standing there and that she was kind of happy and amazed he had decided to stay. The irrational part of her, the one that was usually over-thinking stuff, had been warning her that he would be off and away as soon as he had gotten what he wanted, but he it hadn't happened. And that was good, right?

It was good, because it made her feel like she wanted to hug him and press a kiss between his shoulder blades. Wait a minute - where did all this mushy, sappy stuff about kisses and Tony being cute just come from? Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits and her forehead wrinkled into a contemplative frown. Then a thought hit her and her mouth felt compelled to immediately voice what was going on inside her head.

"I love you," she said in amazement.

Tony turned around with a surprised look on his face. Surprised, because he hadn't expected her to be standing there and much less spouting a declaration of love in the wee hours of the morning.

"I love you," Abby finally repeated with more certainty. She had not expected herself to be saying those words to him - just not yet, anyways. Especially not since she had gone to sleep with different kinds of feelings. Well, maybe not different feelings...maybe she just hadn't been ready to acknowledge them then. Funny that she should say those words now. Okay, she used the word love kind of inflationary as in phrases like 'Hey, I love your sweater' or 'Turn up this song. I love it', but she had gone a long time without really meaning it. Love love, actually. It was funny, given the triviality of the situation. She had just watched him drink from a milk carton, for crying out loud, which had led her to profess her feelings for him. But maybe it was exactly the triviality of the situation that had led to this. Saying those three words was not some candlelight-induced, red wine-bedazzled, fleeting fancy. She really meant it. Her rambling inner voice dimly registered that he was still shy of an answer. She looked at him expectantly.

"Thank you," he said somewhat awkwardly.

"What?"

"Ermm...I don't know what to say." He busied himself with closing the refrigerator door somewhat circumstantially. Everything not to look her straight in her face.

"Let me give you a prompt. Usually something like 'I love you, too,' is one of the favoured responses, but strangely 'Thank you,' is not on the list, though it happens to include the crappy Han Solo line 'I know' as well." Her bare foot was tapping on the linoleum floor.

"I'm sorry, but...," he commenced.

She averted her head, blinking repeatedly and running her hand through her hair. God, he felt like such an asshole! He was already taking a step towards her when she raised her hands defensively.

"You know what. Don't, okay? I should have been so pushy...and needy...and kind of mushy. I just didn't think...that's all. Which is kind of ironic since I tend to over-think stuff all the time."

A long pause settled between them. Tony could think of nothing to say that would salvage the situation in any way. Why couldn't he have just told her that he loved her? It wasn't that hard, after all. Just three fucking words. Those stupid boybands and tacky pop singers always crooned them out and he had trouble saying it. He, special agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS' finest, womaniser extraordinaire, BMW driver, movie buff had trouble saying 'I love you'. Even now that he knew so much depended on him voicing his feelings, the words just wouldn't come out of his mouth. And that made him a supreme upper-bastard. Worst of all, he knew it. He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

"Maybe I should go," he said finally.

"Yeah, maybe," she answered slowly.

By Sunday morning Abby had decided she had wallowed in her self-pity enough on her own. So she picked up the phone and called her best friend Sasha, which had resulted in them spending the afternoon curled up on Abby's couch, eating double-chocolate-chunk ice cream out of the box with two spoons, complaining about men and watching chick flicks. It had been comforting, but not comforting enough, it appeared, because when Abby got up on Monday to go to work, she still felt like crap.

She probably looked it, too, since she had spent the better part of last night mulling over her screwed up relationship with Tony - not in a detached way that usually led to the solution of a problem. No, rather in the teary all emotional kind of way. That was why her eyes now looked kind of swollen and red. She decided that the appliance of more make-up was necessary. She didn't want Gibbs to take one look at her and immediately engage on a man hunt after Tony. Though part of her actually found some sort of sadistic pleasure in that thought. After all she had told him she loved him and he had just said 'thank you'. 'Thank you,' for crying out loud! Like she had just offered him a pastrami sandwich.

She let out an annoyed huff as she got out off her car and approached the NCIS building. Maybe if she was lucky she could bunker up inside her lab until noon without being pestered, listening to some quality industrial and playing Halo.

Of course, the first person she met in the elevator was Jimmy Palmer. Not that she had something against Jimmy. God, no! He was a nice, kind of goofy guy, but lately he had this aura of cheerfulness radiating from him. Normally she would find that adorable, but today it just bugged the hell out of her, especially knowing where his good mood came from. It wasn't hard to put one and one together. Agent Lee and him happened to disappear simultaneously a lot, so at some point she had stopped thinking it had been a coincidence. Plus, there was this hickey on his neck...

She wondered if Ducky knew. He probably did. He was more perceptive than most people gave him credit for.

Once inside her lab, she felt immediately somewhat consoled by the familiar surroundings and the soft buzz of the machines that were like a calming melody. She dropped her bag on the chair with a sigh and opened the top drawer of her desk that was completely filled with sweets. They were leftovers from the time when Gibbs had temporarily retired. She looked at the sweets wistfully for a while, then grabbed the bag of jelly beans and started stuffing them in her mouth.

When Gibbs called around noon to inform her about the new case (a pretty run of the mill one) they were now working on, her tummy was already starting to complain, because of the huge amount of sweets that had been put into it in comparatively little time. Gibbs wanted her to run a few fingerprints through the data bank and examine the clothes of the suspect for smoke residue - some basic stuff. Tony never turned up at the lab. She was extremely thankful for that.

During her brief telephone conversations with Gibbs, she managed to keep it together, even to convincingly put on an act. She was kind of proud of herself for that, but was it really something to be proud of hiding the fact that you're miserable from your friends? Apparently she had not done the job as well as she had hoped, because later that afternoon, when most of her work was done and Ziva, Tony and Gibbs had gone of to save the day, an unexpected visitor entered her lab.

She briefly turned her head to see Ducky standing in the doorframe. She managed a sad little, "Hey, Ducky," then turned back to the computer screen in front of her. It would have been a good move, would the computer have been actually turned on. As a matter of fact she had been sitting there for...she didn't know how long...and stared at her reflection that looked back at her from the obsidian surface of the black screen.

"Abigail," Ducky let out a sigh and sat down next to her on the empty stool, "I'm worried," he said, skipping the usual introductory small talk.

"About what?" she turned to him, feigning complete innocence.

"You know, the last time I observed an...unusual change in your eating habits, Jethro had decided to resign from NCIS. During our video conference today and I could hardly understand you, because you were busy feasting on a lollipop." The word 'lollipop' sounded so strange coming from his lips. Like it wasn't even in his vocabulary. "I couldn't help but feel a little preoccupied."

"Should have known I couldn't fool you, Ducky." She gave him a sad little half smile and squeezed his hand affectionately.

"Given the fact that you've tried to keep this a secret, I assume it's a matter of considerable delicacy."

Abby nodded and Ducky continued. "Possibly connected to young Anthony's ill-humour, which rather coincidentally fell also on this day?" She nodded again.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of an expert when it comes to the matters of the heart, but I'd be willing to lend an ear."

She looked at him for a moment hesitantly, debating with herself whether it was wise to involve anyone from work into her own little private mess with Tony. Ducky was like an uncle to her, not the creepy kind, mind you, no, the kind that is adorably old-fashioned and has many interesting stories to tell. She especially like the macabre ones and, being a forensic doctor, he knew many of them.

"I don't know, Duck, do you really want to hear me piss and moan about what assholes men can be?" She threw him a tiny lopsided grin.

Instead of a direct answer, he reached inside the pocket of his lab coat and took a Hershey's candy bar and held it out to her. "I understand that such talks are best accompanied by the eating of chocolate."

This time she smiled at him genuinely, took the candy bar from his hands and gave him a hug.

Abby slowly started unwrapping the chocolate. "Okay," she commenced somewhat uncertainly. "Tony and I...we've been sort of seeing each other over the last two weeks and last night..." She paused. She hadn't considered that she had to tell him about the sex part. Now that was embarrassing. She broke off a huge piece of chocolate and stuffed it in her mouth to win some time. Before she could come up for a more euphemistic phrasing for it, Ducky beat her to it.

"You had sex..." he volunteered. No blushing, just a matter-of-fact observation. Sometimes she forgot he was a doctor.

"Erm yes, and later that night...I sort of told him that I loved him and he...," she took a deep breath, "he just said 'thank you'. I mean what kind of guy just says 'thank you' when you tell him you love him, huh?"

Ducky paused a little and looked down at his falted hands. "Anthony...oh dear, how I can I put this correctly...well, I couldn't help but notice him having a lot of lady friends over the last couple of years." Abby thought Ducky so adorable for actually using a word like 'lady friend'. The corners of her mouth crept up a little. "Of course, he always shied away from a more serious relationship...I can imagine that it would pose a problem to him if a woman he cared about professed her feelings to him. Even if he felt the same way about her, I suppose it would take a considerable effort from his side to actually voice those feelings."

"It's not rocket science...saying 'I love you' shouldn't be that hard, after all."

"For you, my dear, it is probably not." She offered him a piece of chocolate, which he took with a pleased smile. "I always thought it one of your most admirable qualities that you were so much in touch with your feelings. But unfortunately not everyone has that kind of gift. My late father for example...never actually said those words."

"Ducky, that's horrible!" Abby interrupted.

He made a dismissive wave with his hand. "Of course, it would have been nice if he said it once in a while...I'd have to lie if I said it didn't bother me at all, as a matter of fact, I spent many years resenting him for it, but now I found that my anger at him has somehow evaporated...I've come to find that in the end it matters more how you act instead of what you say." He chewed on his piece of chocolate pensively. "Words don't determine a person's life, whether he's regarded as good or bad, actions do. Love can sometimes be expressed wordlessly in a little everyday triviality like pouring someone a cup of coffee or a pat on the shoulder."

"Or like comforting a friend with chocolate and some gentle words." Abby smiled at him.

"Exactly," Ducky laughed.

"I suppose I should give him another chance, then..." She broke off another piece of chocolate and looked at it contemplatively as if it held the answer to all the questions in the universe.

"Personally I wouldn't go easy on him...A little bit of grovelling is actually required in situations like that," he advised her.

Abby smirked at him.


	10. My foolish heart

**Author's note: **_Hello, there! I hope you enjoyed reading this story (my first Tabby fic). I'd like to thank my super-awesome beta-reader _**Smackalicious**. _She's the coolest! And of course thank you for R&R. Always a pleasure to hear from you. C' ya!_

It was Saturday morning and the bright light of day shone in through the blinds that were apparently unable to block out the sun any longer. A ray of light fell on his face which made him squint and pull the covers over his face. He had been awake for quite some time now, but had just not dared to move, thanks to his attempt of running a marathon yesterday. So he just lay there moping, busying himself with hating himself and the rest of the world.

He was angry at her. What was so hard to understand about taking it slow? It certainly didn't include premature declarations of love. No, not last time he checked. It was all her fault, because she had manoeuvred him into a situation he didn't know how to deal with. It didn't take much to put one and one together. Go figure, when you cornered a scared animal, there was a high chance it was going to bite you.

Yesterday he had been running. The physical exertion had served him to release some of his anger and left him sore. His thighs felt heavy and when he lay still for a while and then moved there was this momentary, sharp stinging sensation. The ache was a reminder that he wasn't twenty anymore and also that running like a mad man wasn't such a brilliant idea after all. It didn't resolve any conflicts, but it did make you tired and exhausted. The anger was still there. Well, that was only half true. Admitting this was already a major progress in itself.

His full bladder forced him to finally get up. He groaned as he sat up in bed and carefully swung his legs over the edge. Tony winced as his bare feet touched the cool wooden floorboards. He slowly got up, cursing silently as his legs started throbbing again. Like an old man, he started hobbling towards the bathroom and passed the mirror without even throwing so much as a glance at his reflection. Normally he didn't let a chance pass by to look at himself whenever a reflecting surface offered the opportunity, but this morning he felt no desire whatsoever to see himself eye to eye. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, his eyes fixed on the sink the whole way through, determined not to look up.

His mood varied from being angry at Abby to unhealthy self-loathing for being a cold hearted bastard who wasn't able to say 'I love you'. Those bits during which he called himself a jerk, asshole and worse, actually extended in length the longer he was fully awake, right to the point where all he wanted to do, was tell Abby how sorry he was. He hadn't seen her all week and he kind of missed her.

But seeing her was completely out of question now, wasn't it? It required a preliminary apology and probably a declaration of love. He wasn't sure how to do either. He dragged his sore body back to bed again and slumped down on it. Okay, he could probably do the first part and manage a credible apology, but generally grovelling wasn't his style. Tony DiNozzo didn't grovel - period. He made a face at the mere thought of it and massaged his forehead with his fingers. Correction, he was willing to grovelling when it involved Abby. Because the worst part of this tragedy that was starting to assume soap opera-like dimensions, was that he really did love her, he just didn't know how to say it. The words just wouldn't leave his mouth. Frustrating, that's what it was! Utterly fucking frustrating!

When was the last time he had said those words and really meant them, anyway? Off the top of his head he couldn't remember a single incident. He went further back through the years. College? No. High school? He couldn't really remember high school all that clearly. A few impressive episodes stood out like when he had dated those two cheerleaders simultaneously or when his football team had won the playoffs. No, he was pretty certain he hadn't said it back then either. Ummm….there wasn't much left to go through anymore. His childhood? Anyone who first heard his Italian surname simply assumed that he had been brought up in one of those typically Italian extended families. You know, the ones were everybody hugs and kisses all the time and there's a lot of food and little kids running around everywhere.

Nope, the DiNozzos were newly rich and just as conservative as anybody else in their neighbourhood that mostly consisted of golf playing country club-goers. Neither his mother nor his father were very big on the emotions. It wasn't like he had seen them an awful lot, anyways. They were mostly busy either spending money or making it. "Yeah, go blame your parents, Tony. The easy way out," Tony thought sarcastically.

He rarely talked about his family, occasionally he had little slips of tongue, but most of the time he kept quite about his childhood. A grown man that was bitching about his parents not loving him enough….well, that was most certainly a no-go, completely un-manly and besides that, unattractive.

He was a man's man. You know, like that guy in 'What Women Want'. It was not like he watched the movie ever. Okay, he had watched it, but only because the leggy Las Vegas showgirls in it had managed to attract his attention. Admittedly they had been there only in the beginning of the movie, when they did this flashback into the early years of the bloke Mel Gibson was playing. Gee, that must have been a pretty good childhood! He would have switched places anytime.

As if on cue, the doorbell started ringing. In his head he weighed the alternatives of either staying in bed and let that ringing take care of itself or getting up and answering the doorbell. He decided for the latter and hobbled towards the door. Through the peephole he could see the postman hovering before the door with an unnerved expression on his face. He was checking his watch and shaking his head.

Tony opened the door and after a rather monosyllabic exchange, he held a packet in his hand. For a moment he looked at it in confusion, wracking his brain from who could have sent it to him. He carefully shook it. It told him nothing about the contents of the box. It was rather big though and strangely light. He decided to rip off the featureless brown paper, it was wrapped in. As he tore away the first shred off paper the words 'Frankenstein's Monster' and 'Nosferatu' were revealed. He quickly discarded the box on the living-room table and stepped away from it as it was a ticking time bomb.

He had been waiting for that for about what? Three weeks? And it had to pick this moment to arrive? Precisely this moment?! Maybe this was God's revenge for his uber-bastardness. Probably. Or maybe it was a sign? "Signs, since when do you believe in signs?" He started pacing in front of the living room table until his gaze fell on a CD lying there on the floor, carelessly discarded next to the bottle of red wine, he had emptied on his own yesterday. A crazy plan started forming inside his head.

When Abby entered her lab on Monday morning, there were two boxes lying on her desk, each of them wrapped neatly in plain black paper. There was no card, nothing to tell her who had left those mystery presents there. She took up one of the boxes, weighed it briefly in her hand and then shook it. Abby wrinkled her forehead pensively and put the present back on the table. Maybe those were not for her after all. She started walking back and forth in front of the desk, hoping that while she was pacing the solution to the dilemma would come to her. It was her growing curiosity, however, that dictated what course of action to take next.

She took up the box again and tore the paper away with childlike eagerness. Her approach to that task was rather impulsive. There are people who carefully pry away the sticky tape from the paper which they fold up neatly once they are done unpacking the gift. In a way this simple routine reflected one's attitude to life. The methodical un-wrappers are the considerate ones who like to be in control of situations and the chaotic un-wrappers, who approach their task with great eagerness, are usually passionate individuals and can easily find fulfilment in the small pleasures of life. Abby like to think of herself as belonging to the latter category.

What was revealed, when the wrapping was gone, was totally unexpected though, a brand new 'Frankenstein's Monster' collectible. Under normal circumstances she would have let out a loud squeal, but the little post-it note that clung to the box's transparent foil, from underneath which miniature Boris Karloff stared at her, made her heart miss a beat. There was just one word written on it. "Sorry."

"Damn right," she said to no-one in particular and placed the box back on the table to take the other one. Same size, probably similar content. After another un-wrapping orgy she laid eyes on a beautiful 'Nosferatu' collectible - a perfect rendition of Max Schreck's features.

"Oh, come to, momma, sweetie!" Not a squeal, but close enough. She pressed the box to her chest affectionately as if it were a little child. "I'll give you a nice home where you can stay with Frankie here and all your other pals." The smile on her face never wavered, that is not until she saw that another post-it note was attached to the box. Ugh! It read: "Give me a chance to explain why I was being such a jerk. Please!" The last word was bolded and underlined twice. "I'll meet you here after we're done with the case?" She frowned. It was not signed. It didn't need signing anyway. She knew exactly who it was from. One week with not so much as a single word from him and now this! He certainly had nerve! Did he honestly believe he could bribe her into liking him again? Still, she didn't know whether to dread the thought of seeing him again or look forward to it.

As the day progressed and slowly turned into night she started shooting more frequent looks at the door. She became more fidgety, played more often with the many silver rings around her fingers. At some point she even grabbed her super-sized cup of Caff-Pow and threw it in the dust bin. Caffeine certainly didn't contribute to her finding her inner calm. In moments like these, she desperately wanted to be one of those girls that always managed to keep their cool and therefore had a better shot at keeping a situation under control, but that was not to be. She was who she was. Most weeks it was okay to be her, but not this week. No, this week it wasn't.

Abby tried almost everything to distract herself. She hated paperwork, but somehow she got that mad idea into her head that it would at least keep her from thinking of Tony for a while. Big surprise there! It did not help at all. She read about the first line of the report that lay in front of her, then her interest was suddenly captured by the water circle that had formed where her Caff-Pow had stood. She dipped her finger into it and doodled with it on the surface of the table, then crunched her nose in disgust and wiped her drawings away.

After that she tried researching on the computer. She tried playing Halo. She even gave her professional magazines a shot. But seeing as she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything longer than ten seconds, it was all senseless. In a way she was kind of happy when he finally stepped through the door. It meant she didn't have to wait anymore.

When she heard the whooshing sound of the sliding doors she turned around to stare at him wordlessly with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't going to make this easy on him, not after the day she had had. Oh, and not to forget the week she had been through!

"Hi," he said and paused afterwards as if he expected her to return his greeting, but she never answered. Abby just sat there, staring at him. She of all people knew best that the silent treatment was very unnerving.

"I guess I deserve that," Tony sighed.

Instead of an answer, she signed something. Thanks to the abrupt motions of her hands and the saccharine smile on her face, he could tell it was most likely something rude.

"And that too, probably."

She cocked her head and looked at him like she wanted to say "What is the point of all this?" Her refusal to talk to him did not make this any easier on him. As a matter of fact it made him feel very self-conscious and nervous. An uncomfortable silence settled in the room.

"That probably means I'll do all the talking." Her eyebrows rose at that. Bad move, he quickly caught himself, "As I should, because the jerk always talks." He let out a nervous laugh, which seemed even more awkward given the silence. It only occurred to him now that the lab was missing the usually background noise. There was no music playing, which was a bad sign in itself.

"I'm sorry, for not..," he commenced and then stopped abruptly to throw a desperate look around as if he was looking for help. "No, that's just not right...How do I say this? Damn!" He paused to contemplate his next words. "Yeah, that might work," Tony said finally. "You know how it is with actors, right? They sometimes get cold feet when they about to perform on a big stage for the first time…What's the word again? Erm...stage fright! Yeah, that's it. You know what you're supposed to say, but the right words just won't come out."

"Ummumm," she said. He took that noise as a little concession she made towards him, maybe even a sign that he was going in the right direction.

"God, this is difficult! I just don't want to screw this up!" He ran a hand through his hair.

"The stage fright analogy was a bit…unusual, but you're doing okay under the circumstances," she said finally and he couldn't help but feel relieved about the fact that she had decided to talk to him again.

"Yeah, I know, but give me some credit. I'm not good at apologies, ask the girls at WeHateTony."

"I know that website."

"Oh."

"You could say that."

"Okay, the stage fright thing was a bit off, I admit that. See, the problem there…well, the problem there was not what you said."

"Gee, that's a relief," Abby interjected sarcastically.

"…it was how I handled it and I handled it badly," he continued.

"No, not badly. Like an insensitive, macho pig," she corrected.

"Alright like an insensitive, macho pig. Now you're quoting from that website, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I had a feeling." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Anyways, the point is, I would have liked to have handled it better. As a matter of fact I would have liked to have said the right thing."

"The right thing? The right thing?" She paused as if she was contemplating his words. "Okay, I'm afraid you'll have to help me there, Tony, what is the right thing?"

"The right thing is…," for a second it looked like he was actually going to say it, but then he continued with something else, "…something I have trouble saying. It's not that I don't want to or that it isn't there, just that I can't, because…well, I can't…just not yet. I need some time to feel my way into it, you know. It's not that easy for me."

"I kind of figured." She let out a long drawn sigh. "Does that mean you're never going to be able to say it? Because I kind of need to hear it now and then. Remember me? The girl who likes bone crushing hugs?"

"See, that's where my plan sets into motion."

"Your plan?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, approximation - careful approximation." He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and produced an unlabelled CD. He marched over to her computer, looked at it uncertainly, then he found the CD-Rom drive, opened it and inserted the disc.

"Okay," Abby said slowly in a tone that clearly indicated she thought that he was completely out of his mind.

A few seconds soft piano music came out of the speakers and the sound of it seemed as outlandish to the whole situation as a hippo dressed in a pink tutu dancing down Main Street.

"Tacky," she said disdainfully. There was still some residual anger she felt towards him.

"Just bear with me, okay?" He stepped before her and held out his hand like he was asking her for a dance on prom night.

She looked out his extended hand uncertainly.

"Come on, you know you want to," he said to her and tried his best charming smile.

"It's not like I desperately want to, but I'm willing to give it a try," she said and finally took his hand. His skin felt cool against hers and there was this prickling sensation again, that kind of giddy, excited feeling she always had when she was around him. She had carefully repressed it in the last couple of days, but now it had returned full force.

He drew her closer into something that was more a hug than a dancing posture. It felt kind of awkward, especially thanks to the fact that this situation was unknown territory to her. She looked at him nervously with a dear caught in the headlights expression, not knowing how dancing was going to resolve their issues.

"When's been the last time you slow danced?" he asked softly, his voice close to her ear. It was low and smoky, very intimate. She could help but remember another situation when it sounded like that.

"Umm…probably never. I did go to prom alright, but the whole standard dancing thing just isn't for me," she admitted.

"You sure? Because I had you down for the slow dancing type, especially since it's something like dancing and hugging combined." Tony turned his head and looked at her with a grin. His sudden proximity was very unnerving to her. She was somewhere caught in the limbo of still being mad at him and enjoying his presence at the same time.

"It's okay, I guess…Wanna finally tell me what this is about?" Abby asked with a hint of impatience swinging in her voice.

"Yeah, right. Since I'm a complete klutz when it comes to saying the right words, I thought I let another Tony handle that for me. Just listen, okay?" His request was soft spoken and right as if on cue as the words had left his lips the pleasantly smoky voice of Tony Bennett filled the room.

_The night is like a lovely tune, beware my foolish heart!  
How white the ever constant moon, take care, my foolish heart!  
There's a line between love and fascination,  
That's hard to see on an evening such as this,  
For they give the very same sensation.  
When you are lost in the passion of a kiss.  
Your lips are much too close to mine, beware my foolish heart!  
But should our eager lips combine, then let the fire start.  
For this time it isn't fascination, or a dream that will fade and fall apart,  
It's love this time, it's love, my foolish heart!_

She could see why he had picked that particular song. It was that kind of song that was more than just nice words and a lovely tune. It told her something about him and not just anything, but precisely how he felt - his most intimate thoughts. With every line she heard her anger was fading and she understood a little better, understood why he couldn't tell her that he loved her just yet and his need to hide behind a song for now.

He softly sang along to the words "It's love this time, it's love," as they swayed through the room and she wordlessly hugged him closer. They stood like this for a while even when the last notes of the song had rung out.

"It's okay," she finally said and looked at him with watery eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes, I get it now."

"Okay," he said for a lack of better words to express the relief he felt, now that this problem no longer stood between them. Abby rested her head on his shoulder and he petted her back. She let out a sigh and some of the tension she had felt all week fell off of her. It was in moments like this Abby usually had epiphanies and precisely then she had an epiphany concerning her relationship with Tony.

"We're quite an odd couple, don't you think?"

"As in Walter Matthau and Jack Lemon?" She could hear him grin even when she wasn't looking at him.

"No, silly," she punched his upper arm and looked at him. "As in you and me. I'm always the pushy one who's moving too fast and you're..."

"What?"

She threw him an apologetic smile. "Snail-tempo?"

"Ummumm." It was not like he was exactly pleased by her observation, but he couldn't protest either, since it was rather accurate. "So what do you suggest?" he asked gruffly.

"You speed up, I slow down?"

"That's it? I always liked to think I was more complex. I expected something deep, at least some psychoanalyst talk."

"No, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Tony, but you're really not that complex," she smiled at him sweetly. There was that familiar teasing tone in her voice again and he couldn't help but feel utterly relieved. As a matter of fact he was so relieved even failed to come up with any kind of repartee.

"So we're really okay again?" he asked kind of superfluously.

"We will be."

"What?!"

"Think, Tony."

"Huh?!"

"Gosh, for once I'm actually expecting you're mind to be in the gutter and then you feign innocence? What do couples usually have after they reconcile?"

"Ooooh...," he said with a smirk, finally realizing what she was alluding to. Then his smile fell. "Wait a minute. We're a couple?!" The tone of his voice was definitely panicky. She was just about to give him a piece of her mind - her mouth was already open - but instead of a furious chain of words connected together by outrage, she only managed a gasp. He grinned at her smugly and said, "Gotcha."

"Oh, you thought this was funny?" Her eyes sparkled at him dangerously, then without a warning she kicked him in the shin

"Ow." He rubbed his leg with a petulant expression on his face.

"I'll show you fun, Mister!" She poked her index finger into his chest aggressively at which he slowly backed off. His retreat was soon stopped, however, when his back bumped against the wall. Abby stepped closer and placed her hands at each side of his head, her body pressing into his. She slowly rubbed her leg against the inside of his thigh in a suggestive rhythm. Almost out of their own accord, his hands reached out to pull her closer put she stopped him with a stern look and the words, "What on earth do you think you're doing, Agent DiNozzo?"

He let his hands drop to his side laxly with an apologetic smile on his face, willing to play her little game. She came closer. Her mouth was now only centimetres from his ear, her voice only a husky whisper. "I originally planned for this to go down in here. It would have been fun, hinky and dangerous, but guess what? Now I'm not in the mood anymore."

"That's really a pity," he said and turned her head to look her deeply in the eyes.

"Yes, it is," Abby replied, holding his gaze, "because now you'll have to wait till we're home and until then," she suggestively rubbed up against him, which elicited a soft groan from him, "…until then. I'll keep torturing you like this."

She might have been able to pull her little dominatrix stunt with McGee, but he was a different league. He could give as good as he got. "Oh, is that so?" He threw her his sexiest smirk, while his hand travelled up her leg only to stop at the middle of her thigh - she wore one of her little skirts which added to the effect.

She bit her bottom lip, her hands had travelled underneath his jacket and now roamed over his chest. He could feel her fingernails through the fabric of his shirt. "Or maybe we'll just stay here. My office chair's quite comfortable." She looked at him with a devious grin.

He pulled her closer and kissed her. It had been a week since he last done that, so the kiss was urgent, fuelled by a week's worth of frustration and loneliness.

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This was an uncomfortable situation, but sometimes discomfort and doing the right thing went hand in hand. If there wasn't any effort behind it, maybe it wouldn't be the right thing after all, but that was a thought that was too philosophical for the situation at hand. How do you tell your ex-boyfriend that you're in a new relationship without hurting his feelings?

Abby had already prepared a plan, thought about what she was going to say, but as things go, the plan had gone to the devil the minute she had set foot in the café. She had arrived earlier and now had some time to kill until McGee arrived. She ordered a raspberry flavoured cappuccino and sat down in the corner from where she could watch the door. It was one of those posh cafés with framed black and white photographs on the walls and people, mostly businessmen who wore fine tailored suits, stared at her as they passed by. She sighed and emptied another pack of sugar into her cup and started stirring with that kind of obsessive zeal that is so characteristic of people who desperately try to distract themselves, be it even by the means of the most trivial task.

She thought about the last month, how it had flown by quickly. A month, that was usually the time limit to her relationships, because then she started getting bored. Tony made her feel a whole lot of things, but never bored, which was kind of funny, because she had already known him for a couple of years. She should have known all his little tricks by now. She should have, but it turned out that there were a whole lot of things she hadn't known about him.

He snored. Normally she hated snoring, but when he did it, it was cute. He liked to cuddle up in front of the TV with her, their limbs tangled with each other so they looked like a human pretzel. He'd be content just to hold her and it would be enough for her. She'd never been that comfortable with anyone and still been attracted to him. She always thought that those two things were mutually exclusive. It turned out they weren't. Sex with him was….rrrrrrr. It had her mentally purring, so that was a good thing and with time passing, they got even better at it. Maybe someday she would pass out during…

Her mind snapped back to the present. When McGee finally arrived, her nervousness surged to a new level. She gave him a welcome hug which was a little longer and tighter than usual and made him somewhat suspicious.

"Something wrong?" he asked as he sat down opposite of her. A moment of hesitation followed, which was filled with the noise of clattering cups, the hissing of the steam shooting out of the coffee machine, the metallic clinging of spoons put down on marble tables and the murmur of many voices talking simultaneously.

"No, no, nothing's wrong. Everything's fine, better than fine…peachy," she hurried to answer.

"Yeah." McGee nodded slowly and gave her a funny look.

"Well, alright," she conceded, "everything's fine, but I still have to talk to you about something. Do you remember our conversation from a few weeks back?" Abby paused hoping that maybe he already knew what she was getting at, but the clueless expression on his face told her otherwise. "You know the one where you got all jealous and wanted to know whether I was going out with Tony and stuff…"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Umm about that…I kind of have to tell you something." She scooted around uncomfortably in her seat.

"You and Tony are together, aren't you?" McGee desperately tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but his neatly manicured fingers that were constantly tapping on the surface of the table and the red dots that were appearing on his face somewhat marred the effect.

"Yes," she admitted after awhile.

"Is it serious?" he asked after a moment he used for thinking as well as for gaining the upper hand over his feelings of irrational jealousy and hurt.

"Pretty much," she said without hesitation.

He briefly paused to process her answer and be able to react appropriately. "Are you happy?" McGee asked finally.

"Yes," she said with the hint of a smile on her lips. He could tell she was holding back, probably to be nice.

He let out a long drawn sigh, then reached across the table and squeezed her hands. It took a while for him to collect himself and find the right words, but eventually he did. Being friends with her was one of the best things that had ever happened to him…hell, meeting her was one of the best things that had ever happened to him and he didn't want to let her go ever again. It hurt to hear her say she was happy with another man, it would hurt even more seeing her together with Tony, but that hurt would lessen. It would be bittersweet friendship, but a friendship nonetheless.

"That's all that matters," he finally said with a hoarse voice.

"Thank you, Timmy, I know that this is not easy for you," she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He threw her a fragile half-smile. "He'd better make sure it stays that way or…" McGee announced darkly and for once that threat actually sounded threatening.

"Well, you'll have to get in line," Abby told him with a genuine smile. "Gibbs already made some pretty impressive death threats."

"No doubt." He let out a hoarse chuckle.

After they had taken that difficult hurdle, the mood began to lighten considerably. She had worried so much about hurting him with something she did or said that her tummy had started grumbling as it often did in times of stress. Now she slowly started to relax and McGee did as well. Their conversation skimmed over several topics but never dwelled on anything too serious for long. The feeling of being comfortable with each other gradually returned.

When McGee went to return their empty mugs to the counter an attractive young woman with light brown hair, who was queuing to get a cup of coffee, threw him a bright smile and Abby found that she had no problem with that. No feelings of jealousy – nothing. As McGee returned to the table she even flashed him a cheeky grin followed by a teasing remark, "That chick was totally checking you out, Timmy!"

"She was, wasn't she?" He said ever so slightly puffing his chest. And suddenly it was okay to joke about it (which would have been unthinkable a couple of weeks ago) and it felt good, because it meant that they were on their way to becoming friends again.

**The end**


End file.
